Fire Emblem Redemption Book V - Accursed March of the Redeemer
by Astral Miracle
Summary: The Phoenician Civil War was brought to a swift conclusion, and Extinction's rampage through Daein came to an abrupt end in Nevassa, just before the gates of Castle Daein. Bolstered by these victories, Morgan sets forth to unravel the last mysteries shrouding the enigmatic Redeemers, even as Maelstrom returns to Tellius's shore and Charon plays his final cards.
1. Disclaimer

**Disclaimer**

* * *

I do not own Fire Emblem, I do not own Intelligent Systems, and I do not own any of the characters / settings from Fire Emblem. I've rated this story T for themes of war, including both violence and murder, alcohol use, potentially minor sexual references (nothing exceeding what already exists in Fire Emblem: Awakening), and potentially themes of character death.

There will be spoilers for Fire Emblem: Awakening, Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance, and Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn.


	2. Prologue

**~ Prologue ~**

The wintery mountainous crags, emerging from the chilling ocean waters nearly fifty miles north of Crimea's northern coast, were more alive than most of Tellius's residents would have guessed. The metallic grinding of numerous blades being sharpened, the echoed battering of smiths at work, and the distant, draconic wail of wyverns blended into a persistent, monotonous drone, obscuring the soft whisper of the falling snow.

One particularly gifted craftsman worked in silence, assembling pieces of armor that had been provided to him. With great care, the middle-aged smith set a fabulous helmet, forged from shimmering black metal, into place atop a slender and elegant suit of light plate armor. He then retrieved a fearsome, metallic mask with a skull-like visage from his nearby workbench and slid it into place, tightening numerous intricate metal clips. When he was finished, he took a step back from the completed suit of armor, inspecting his own handiwork with a satisfied smile.

"Perfect," he whispered.

"Perfect indeed."

Recognizing the voice, the craftsman spun around in shock. "L-Lord Charon!?"

Ignoring his servant's surprise, Charon surveyed the suit of armor, the last in the line of six identical suits. "Well done. Is this batch ready?"

"A-Almost, sir," the craftsman stammered nervously. He did his best to keep from trembling as he gestured toward the most recently assembled suit. Of the six, it alone remain unarmed. "One of the swords was too blunt. I sent it back to be sharpened again," he explained.

"Then I will defer to your better judgment," Charon said, inclining his head slightly. "Do you know when you will be finished?"

"By dawn, at the latest," the craftsman promised. "Another batch has been delivered already to the Chamber of Waking."

"I see. I will tend to them now. Thank you," Charon said, turning to leave.

Behind him, the craftsman sighed in relief. Charon wasn't the rash and ruthless tyrant Medea was. In fact, as long as any of the Redeemers could remember, Charon had treated even the newest members of their order with respect. Yet there was something unnerving about the mighty Redeemer. Some intangible quality that felt grossly unnatural, that set him apart even from the other spirit charmers.

Shaking his head, the craftsman tried to put his mysterious and powerful leader out of mind as he crawled into his nearby tent, hoping to find some rest before the missing sword was sharpened and returned to him.

* * *

Charon had only just crossed the threshold of his fortress when he was accosted once more. This time, it was not a common soldier or laborer who approached him, but one of his partners, a beautiful blonde with stunningly sharp features clad in contrasting white silk and black leather.

"Lord Charon," Medea greeted, in an irritably intimate tone.

"Lady Medea," Charon returned her greeting politely. "Has the Crimean king been dealt with?"

Medea smiled cruelly and nodded. "He lies dead in his throne room, as does his beloved daughter."

"And the note?" Charon asked.

"Pinned to the princess's cooling corpse," Medea gloated, her gleeful smile growing wider. "Two of the foreigners saw me, but I doubt the Crimean heirs will care to hear what they have to say."

"Nor will they care to hear the Gallian queen's pleas of innocence, embroiled in their own fears as they are," Charon said. His tone then grew thoughtful. "But both Harmony and Symphony were in Castle Crimea during our raid, and if the foreigners were also there, King Goldoa must have been present as well. The dragon king will speak out, laying out the truth openly, and his voice of reason will be harder for the Crimeans to ignore."

Upon hearing Charon's grim forecast, Medea's face fell. "Do you think he will be able to stop the war?" she asked, sounding disappointed.

"Perhaps. He will certainly try," Charon said noncommittally. "It matters little, I think. The shard glows with power once more. The blight of Extinction has proved to be an unexpected, yet welcome, boon. We will find our opening soon enough. We must ready ourselves."

"I already awoke the phantoms that our smiths left in the Chamber," Medea reported. She smiled wickedly. "Would you like me to 'motivate' our smiths to work a bit faster?" she offered.

"That will not be necessary," Charon said with only the slightest hint of distaste. "I am certain they are working as quickly as they are able. If you would like to make yourself useful, collect and send a dozen phantoms to my quarters."

"As you wish," Medea agreed, though she sounded far less enthusiastic with her newly appointed task. "Assorted?"

"Ignis only," Charon corrected. "Also, have you seen Lord Relic since we departed Crimea?"

Medea shook her head. "I thought he was with you," she said.

"He was, for a time," Charon said. "I was expecting him to follow me in our retreat, but I have not seen him since our return. No matter. I doubt he is in any real danger. Perhaps he warped to the Divine Citadel instead to inspect our operations there."

"Probably," Medea agreed. "Would you like me to go and fetch him?"

"No. Just find and send those phantoms up to me, and wait for the next batch of armor to be made ready," Charon instructed. He stopped there, marching past Medea without any formal words of parting.

Similarly, Medea didn't waste her breath with farewells. Instead, as she set off in search of the phantoms Charon had requested, her mind dwelled on the coming bloodshed with giddy anticipation.

* * *

Lucina stared at the ruined wall idly for several seconds. Then, with a disappointed sigh, she stepped lightly up the torn stone staircase. There, she found Severa, clad in her ordinary clothes with her platinum-blond hair draped behind her shoulders, lying with her legs dangling over the unfenced side of the wall. The Ylissean princess smiled and some of her lethargy seemed to leave her as she approached. "Well, I'm glad _someone_ has remained vigilant," she commented slyly.

Severa yawned loudly, then opened her eyes lazily, glancing at her friend. "Hey, Lucy," she greeted sleepily, before closing her eyes once more.

Lucina's smile faded as she silently seated herself beside Severa.

"Don't worry," Severa said in a muffled tone, blindly gesturing towards a small pile of equipment that lay beside her. "My weapons and armor are right there."

"I don't think you'll need them," Lucina admitted. "The city is still in uproar. Everyone's scrambling for weapons. I saw one of the castle's chefs wandering around the garden with a rolling pin in hand. I doubt anyone will try to start any trouble around here anytime soon."

"Other than the Crimeans themselves," Severa grumbled. "If King Goldoa can't convince Crimea's senators that Gallia wasn't behind the assassinations, their army will probably be on the road by nightfall, weapons or no weapons."

"Not likely," Lucina disagreed glumly. "It'll be at least a week before the senators even finish sorting out all the claims of royal heritage. Ever since word of the king's death spread, nobles have been streaming into castle."

"Oh, good. Maybe they'll start a war in the middle of the castle, first, before invading their innocent neighbors," Severa said sarcastically. Her eyes flickered open and she sat up abruptly. "I know. Maybe if they _too_ uppity with each other, King Goldoa could transform and eat a couple of them. That would calm things down, right?"

Lucina couldn't help but smile. "That would probably make things worse. The senators are pretty unhappy with the Laguz already."

"I guess," Severa said unhappily, lying down once more.

"Severa! Lucina!"

Severa didn't bother moving, but Lucina turned at the sound of Owain's voice, and watched as her brown-haired cousin made his way up the staircase. "Hello, Owain," Lucina said.

"I'm back," Owain said unnecessarily. "And I brought back some food," he added, bringing forth a cloth-wrapped basket. The cloth shifted open, and the aromatic scent of seasoned and roasted chicken spilled into the air around them.

" _That's_ where you've been?" Severa protested. "You said you were going to check how things were going in the city!"

"I was," Owain said with a shrug. "There's not a lot going on in the city, though. People are talking about the ruckus last night… well, whispering. That's about it, though."

"I figured as much," Lucina said with a sigh.

"So, what now?" Owain prompted.

"King Goldoa's trying to smooth things over with the nobles and the senators," Severa explained as she poked around inside the basket of food. "I think King Phoenicis is with him, too. Once they're finished, we can head back to Begnion."

"This isn't a matter that will be settled in a few hours," Lucina said worriedly. "King Goldoa may end up staying here a lot longer than we initially thought."

Severa shrugged helplessly. "If that's the case, then we can head back to Begnion without them. I imagine King Phoenicis and Celera will be returning to their home instead, anyways," she said.

"Their country was a bit of a mess when they left, and they weren't expecting to be gone for this long," Lucina agreed. "Let's give them a few hours, at least. If afternoon comes and they're still talking with the senators, we can drop by to let them know we're heading back to Begnion."

"We shall trust in this fine country to overcome its own trials, supported by its rich history of peace and acceptance," Owain said solemnly.

"Right now, I don't think we can even trust this 'fine' country to sort out its own lines of succession without getting more people killed," Severa grumbled, rolling her eyes.

Unable to disagree, Lucina and Owain fell silent. Together, they remained perched upon the wall for the rest of the morning, watching as more nobles arrived at the battle-scarred castle to lay their claims upon the empty throne.

* * *

With confidence born of repetition, Robin gently eased a curved, metallic plate into place, sliding it into a precisely cut groove atop a thick wooden beam. Another piece of carefully-shaped metal filled a second groove and formed the base of a shaft. Satisfied, he lifted the bizarre amalgam of wood and metal from his workbench, and set it on a nearby table covered with other similar pieces.

Then he took a step back and stared at the fruits of his labor in thoughtful silence. With the latest addition, he had enough parts at hand to assemble four more of the magically-empowered ballistae. That made ten in total, if Morgan were to deconstruct and bring back the pieces of the six she had brought north to Daein… assuming those six remained intact.

Similarly, assuming Extinction had already been dealt with, the next logical step would be to send the ballistae back to Ylisse and put them to use against Calamity. Or it could have been, if they had had the faintest inkling of where Calamity was. "And some way to keep him from simply flying out of range," Robin thought aloud. "Maybe there's some way to make these ballistae more mobile…"

A loud crash made him flinch, interrupting his train of thought. With a sigh, Robin turned and started for the staircase, descending to the ground floor of his borrowed workshop in Sienne. Only a couple of years ago, the sudden, loud, and unexpected noise would have sent him into a complete panic. By now, the past hundred or so incidents had left him rather desensitized, and he wasn't too overly concerned. "Is everything okay, Morgan?" he called.

The little red-headed toddler was sprinting towards the stairs as Robin reached the bottom step, and almost tumbled headfirst into him. "Sorry," she said sheepishly, hugging her prize tightly to her chest.

"Here," Robin said kindly. The little girl willingly relinquished her burden, allowing her father to inspect the completed keystone. He wasn't concerned about the inscribed runes, and contented himself looking for cracks, hoping that it hadn't been damaged when it had been dropped. "It looks great. Thanks," he said when he finished examining the stone.

"You're welcome!" little Morgan babbled happily, looking quite pleased with herself.

Robin then glanced over at the corner of the room, where the younger Severa was lying on the floor and playing with a small pouch of marbles. Noticing that she appeared to be a bit bored, Robin frowned, silently wishing he had some way to keep her entertained.

Then the door slammed open loudly, and the adult Morgan strode into the room cheerfully, followed shortly by her mother. "We're back!" Morgan announced. At the sound of her voice, her younger self raced to her side eagerly, with little Severa trailing only a few steps behind.

"The battle in Daein must have gone relatively well. You two seem to be in good spirits," Robin commented as Morgan swept her younger self into a hug and Severa clutched her mother's hand tightly.

"Relatively," Cordelia agreed, with a sharp glance at the adult Morgan, who studiously ignored her. "There were a few close calls, but we won out in the end."

"Extinction is destroyed, for real this time," Morgan said. "Even though Begnion's army didn't quite arrive in time, the Pegasus knights they sent ahead were enough. Nevassa's a bit of a mess now, but most of the civilians were evacuated in time. They'll probably all head home as soon as they hear that the fighting's over. Oh, and the queen and prince are both safe and sound, too."

At that, a shadow flickered across Robin's expression. It was good news, but also a painful reminder of the deteriorating situations in Crimea. "That's good to hear," he said quickly, wanting to hear the full story before sharing the bad news. "What of the magical ballistae? Did you bring them back with you?"

"Umm… they didn't quite make it," Morgan admitted sheepishly. "One was only partially damaged, but I couldn't figure out how to disassemble it without breaking it entirely. Three more were ruined, and the last two haven't been recovered yet. Lionel promised to hang onto them, though. Well, hang onto whatever's left of them, at least."

Robin shrugged. "Oh well. It's not a big deal," he reassured her. It was annoying, but hardly a major setback with four more of them at hand. "Did they at least help?" he asked, for it suddenly occurred to him that he didn't even know if his newly-designed weapons were truly useful to begin with.

"Definitely," Cordelia replied.

"Yeah. We could barely hurt the eidolon without them," Morgan added. "Did Uncle Chrom take care of the other one yet? If they haven't, maybe we could build a few more and send them back to Ylisse."

"I thought about it," Robin answered, shaking his head. "I have the parts for four more ballistae and lecterns, but I don't know if Chrom will be able to put them to use. Calamity has been constantly moving from one target to the next."

"Where is the eidolon now?" Cordelia asked uneasily.

"We don't know," Robin admitted, cringing.

Morgan's eyes went wide with disbelief. "How could they have lost a dragon that big?" she asked incredulously.

"Dragon!" little Morgan echoed happily.

"Chrom and the others chased what they thought was Calamity halfway to Plegia, before finally destroying him," Robin explained, ignoring the interruption. "Only, from their description, the dragon was much smaller than he should have been. Our best guess is that the eidolon created an image of himself to distract them."

Though Cordelia knew there was little chance that the missing dire eidolon had returned to Tellius unbeknownst to them, her thoughts immediately went out to their other daughter. "What about Severa? Have you heard from her?" she asked worriedly.

"I have," Robin admitted, his expression growing darker still. "She and the others went to Gallia first, as planned, but nothing came of their meeting with the queen. They then went north to Crimea, but King Crimea was assassinated not long after they arrived."

"Assassinated," Morgan echoed hollowly.

"Yes. Crimea's princess was killed, too, ambushed during her journey south while carrying a message to Queen Gallia," Robin said heavily. "It sounds like the Redeemers are trying to pin the blame on Gallia. According to Severa, King Goldoa is speaking with the Crimean senators now, in hopes of keeping things under control."

"Do you think they'll believe him?" Cordelia asked.

"I don't know," Robin confessed. "Gallia looked to be on the verge of making a move against Crimea before the assassinations took place; the Crimeans are likely more than willing to believe that Queen Gallia was responsible. But there's another problem, too. Crimea's line of succession wasn't clearly established. With both the king and his only daughter gone, several nobles are now vying for the throne."

"So, does that mean they aren't marching towards Gallia yet?" Morgan asked. The thought of infighting among Crimean nobility was troubling, but if Crimea was left leaderless, then at least they were in no shape to start a war.

"Not yet," Robin said. "But it's hard to predict how the situation will play out. Gallia likely doesn't even know of the assassinations yet. When they learn of it, they may try to claim their innocence, or they may simply prepare themselves for a war. If they truly fear Crimea, they may even choose to strike first, while Crimea is paralyzed by its political struggles."

"Or maybe Crimea won't be struggling at all, and someone will assume the throne quickly and be capable of leading the country wherever he wants," Morgan said thoughtfully.

"It's possible," Robin said. "Honestly, I don't even think King Goldoa knows what is going to happen next. He had no reason to stay abreast of the local politics in Crimea. He's a neutral mediator at best, and even that may be compromised if Crimea is considering waging war against a Laguz country."

"It doesn't sound like there's anything we can do," Cordelia noted. "Are Severa and the others planning to return to Begnion soon?"

"They are," Robin said. "They're just waiting for a chance to speak with King Goldoa and King Phoenicis first, to see what they're planning."

"Why?" Morgan blurted. "There's nothing happening here in Begnion, is there? If we're not certain how this will all play out, we should try to keep a closer eye on what's happening in Crimea. I should go join Severa there instead. If you learn anything here, you can reach us through the mirror, right?"

"I can, but Crimea isn't safe right now," Robin warned. "Their disputes over the throne could easily turn violent with little to no warning. We would do better to stay clear until we have a better idea of the direction down which Crimea is headed."

Morgan shook her head quickly. "We can't wait that long," she insisted. "The Redeemers could still be watching and looking for any opportunity to nudge Crimea and Gallia towards war with each other. If we're all here in Begnion, there's no chance of us stopping them."

"If you're right, then Crimea is even more dangerous," Cordelia reminded.

"Maybe, if the Redeemers decide to risk moving openly and directly against us," Morgan conceded. "But if we stay alert and keep warp powder at hand, it should be safe enough. Besides, if the Redeemers did decide to strike at us, they could attack us here in Begnion, too. We have no idea how much influence they have here."

Startled by that possibility, Cordelia tightened her grips on both her lance and little Severa's hand, glancing at her husband nervously.

"That's true," Robin agreed. "Which is why I turned Emperor Yashiro down when he offered to post a few guards around the workshop to keep my work from being interrupted; Begnion's army is too large for us to be able to trust each and every one of its soldiers."

"And you've kept your sword and tome with you the whole time, too," Morgan observed. "Don't worry. We'll be careful, Dad."

Though Cordelia seemed unconvinced, Robin relented, partially because Morgan's reasoning was sound, and partially because he knew he wasn't about to dissuade her. "Alright, but make sure you stay together and keep the mirror close by," he said. "And before you leave, you should drop by the castle. Iris has been training with one of the emperor's retainers, and it seems like her success with the light tome you lent her before was no accident. Her instructor claims that her natural talent with light magic surpasses anything he has seen before."

"It might have been a common trait of all the bat Laguz," Morgan said, remembering the bat Laguz revenants Extinction had summoned.

"Maybe," Robin said. "Anyhow, she's been checking in with me at least once a day, too, hoping for word of her friends. If you're headed to Crimea, she may want to accompany you."

"Alright. I'll go visit her now, then," Morgan said.

"You're leaving?" little Morgan asked sadly.

"Yeah, but we'll be back soon," Morgan promised, silently hoping that her words would prove true.

Noticing that Cordelia looked torn, Robin smiled reassuringly at her. "Go. We'll be fine. The girls have been absolute angels."

Cordelia nodded reluctantly, then pulled both of her younger daughters together into a tight hug. "Morgan's right. We'll be back soon," she assured them.

* * *

"Maybe we spoke too quickly. At this rate, we might still be in Begnion by nightfall," Morgan grumbled, as she marched down one of Begnion's many identical, opulently decorated hallways with Cordelia and Soren following close behind. "Why would _anyone_ need such a huge castle? You could fit a small village in here!"

"Begnion has a history of being obsessed with internal politics and appearances," Soren said, shrugging. "An impractically large castle is just one of the ways for the Begnion elite to remind everyone else of their self-perceived superiority."

"I never thought I'd find myself lost in a castle," Cordelia admitted. She glanced from side to side, taking note of the many distinct artworks draped along the walls in hopes of finding some way to navigate the castle.

"It happens more often than you think."

Morgan spun around, startled, to find a slender, hooded man standing behind them, accompanied by two women who Morgan recognized at once. General Felicia was still in her traveling garb, with her long green hair flowing freely behind her shoulders. On the other side of the hooded figure was Iris, with her lustrous midnight-black hair and distinctive bat-like wings.

"Hi," Iris said shyly.

"Iris! We've been looking for you everywhere," Morgan greeted brightly, before turning curiously to the hooded man.

"We heard," the man remarked wryly, pulling back the hood of his weathered robe slightly.

"Emperor Yashiro!" Morgan gasped, recognizing the violet-haired man at once.

"Not so loud, please," Yashiro pleaded.

Soren, immediately assuming the worst, scanned the hallway for any potential eavesdroppers. "Why are you in hiding? Is something wrong?" he asked quietly, when he was convinced that they were alone.

"Not quite," Yashiro said, shaking his head. "Everything is more or less settled, now. The senators are finally willing to listen to King Goldoa's warnings in light of the events in Daein…"

"But those cowardly fools are more worried about immediate danger reaching them in Sienne than anything else," Felicia fumed.

Soren stared at her curiously.

"Part of our army will remain in Daein, in case any trouble arises during the reconstruction. The rest is being withdrawn to Begnion to secure our borders and the capital," Yashiro explained. "They are reluctant to extend our aid any further, however, and only reluctantly agreed to sending a few representatives to assess the situation in Crimea."

"Representatives?" Morgan asked. Her eyes widened with understanding. "You want to visit Crimea personally?"

"I did not find it necessary to tell them which representatives I had in mind," Yashiro replied with a smile. "And as you can well imagine, this affair will be far simpler if I were to leave quickly, before any of the senators are given the time to understand and lodge their protests."

"So when you heard we were here searching for Iris, you thought it to be the perfect opportunity for you and your wife to slip away from the inaction," Soren said, sighing. "You _do_ recognize the potential danger involved, yes? I doubt we will have the time or resources to look after you."

"Don't worry, we will not need to be…" Yashiro began confidently, until the full impact of Soren's words struck him. "How did you know?" he asked, staring at Soren wonderingly. Felicia, too, stared at the branded mage, her mouth agape.

"Felicia's title hardly fits her. A general is typically chosen her leadership skills, rather than her fighting talent," Soren said with a sigh. "And knowing Begnion's customs and dedication to formalities, none of the emperor's retainers would ever interrupt him like she just did. Or hurl invectives at Begnion's senators for, well, being typical politicians. At first I thought her an unofficial bodyguard, but you two seem closer than that."

"Emperor Yashiro, you and General Felicia are _married_?" Morgan asked, stunned.

"That was an impressive deduction, or at least, an impressive leap of logic," Yashiro answered wryly. "You are right. Felicia and I were traveling companions for many years before I returned here to Begnion. We were married in Phoenicis, not long before we received word of the death of Begnion's emperor. I offered to return and wear the crown once more, until Princess Mirai was ready to rule."

"But why would you keep it secret?" Cordelia asked curiously.

"Because once little Mirai is ready to take the throne back, we were hoping to return to our own lives," Felicia explained. "We didn't want Begnion's politics to follow us."

"Which is why we must ask that you keep our secret to yourselves," Yashiro pleaded.

"We can do that," Morgan agreed easily. Cordelia and Iris nodded in agreement.

"Getting involved in Begnion's convoluted politics was just about the last thing I had in mind, anyways," Soren said.

"Thank you. So, will you allow us to accompany you to Crimea?" Yashiro asked.

Morgan glanced at Soren, but the older tactician remained silent. "I guess, if you're sure you want to come," she said, when it became clear that Soren was waiting for her to decide.

"We're sure," Felicia said.

"What about you, Iris?" Morgan asked. "Dad said you might want to come with us, too."

Iris nodded nervously. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be," she admitted. "But I should be able to look after myself now, at least."

"Okay. Is everyone ready to leave?" Morgan asked. When no one raised any objections, she drew her sack of warp powder and doled large handfuls into three small cloth pouches. "Our friends are waiting around in Castle Crimea's courtyard. Focus on it, and throw a handful on the ground. Keep the rest handy in case you need a quick escape," Morgan instructed, as she handed out the pouches.

Cordelia and Soren each took a handful of warp powder from their own pouches, too, and a moment later, six rifts appeared in unison, whisking them away to their distant destination.

* * *

Archmage Actaeus heaved a great sigh as he began tidying his quarters near the throne room of Begnion's palace, returning his many manuscripts to the neatly ordered collection on his bookshelf. A week ago, the emperor had approached him with the dubious task of quickly training a complete novice in the ways of magic. The task had only grown more daunting when he learned that his new pupil was not Beorc, but Laguz. Laguz were known to shun magic, after all.

It didn't take long for him to realize his preconceived doubts were entirely unfounded. The unassuming young Laguz woman was different from any Laguz he had ever known, with a natural propensity for light magic that seemed entirely unreal. Her power blossomed quickly, and after only a few days of careful instruction, her skill already rivaled that of the most powerful priests Actaeus had ever known.

But try as he might, Actaeus could not dismiss his fears. When Emperor Yashiro arrived earlier to collect Iris from her studies, Actaeus knew that the young Laguz's course would be fraught with danger. Unlike most of Begnion's nobles and politicians, Actaeus understood that trouble was stirring, and that his new pupil was moving straight towards the heart of it all.

And he knew that magical potential alone counted for very little on an open battlefield. Throughout his long life, he had seen countless skilled academics inject themselves into conflict, only to pay for their complacency.

A familiar ringing noise echoed through his chambers suddenly, ending his silent contemplations and drawing his attention to a magical rift that had appeared behind him. The mystic light faded quickly, revealing an aged man who appeared to be roughly the same age as he, dressed in a gold and crimson robe.

"Tormod," Actaeus greeted politely. He studied his visitor closely, and despite the stoic façade, he sensed that something was not quite right. "What is it?" he asked, trying not to sound too unnerved.

"My road has crumbled," Relic whispered gravely.

"I can't remember you ever looking so… defeated," Actaeus said softly, pausing in his search for the right word. "Even the destruction of Port Toha and the return of Calamity and Extinction did little to shake your composure. What happened, Tormod?"

"I played the fool," Relic said, shaking his head. "Desperate hope blinded me."

Actaeus cocked his head curiously, but when Relic said nothing more, he could only assume the worst. "I warned you, did I not? There are forces in this world that cannot be swayed. There is potential that cannot be safely harnessed," he said with a sigh.

"We could have shined," Relic lamented.

"You could have, perhaps," Actaeus agreed. "But Charon learned the truth of power many years ago. Even from the beginning, you knew that guiding him to a better road would prove a formidable challenge."

Relic shook his head. "Charon's desires matter not."

Actaeus furrowed his brow, unsure of Relic's meaning. "I thought Charon remained the leader, in fact if not nominally."

"Charon's rule remains absolute," Relic confirmed.

"I suppose you simply enjoy being cryptic," Actaeus said wryly. "I thought we were long past the point where you would fear me exposing your secrets."

Relic smiled sadly. "Your ignorance shields you."

"Does it now?" Actaeus laughed. "Trust me, Tormod. I know my place. I'm merely an old man, watching the world as it goes about the way it wants. Whether or not you share your fears with me, I don't intend to interfere. The world doesn't need my meddling." Then his expression grew serious. "What about you? Why are you here, if it's neither advice nor an open ear that you seek?"

In answer, Relic drew a small book from his sash. Actaeus narrowed his eyes, peering at the etchings upon the book's worn cover. Then his eyes went wide with shock as he understood Relic's intent.

* * *

"Morgan!"

Though the light from the warp powder rifts had not faded entirely, Morgan recognized the sound of her sister's voice. "Hello, Severa!" she called cheerily, managing a weak wave before her vision cleared.

"Iris? What are you doing here?" Symphony asked as he approached the new arrivals in the center of the courtyard.

"I came to see how you and Harmony were doing," Iris replied brightly. If Symphony's concerned expression bothered her at all, she didn't show it. "How've you been?"

"Everyone's still alive," Harmony replied with a faint smile.

"And that's about where the good news ends," Severa added, rolling her eyes. To Morgan's surprise, Owain, contrary to his normal upbeat self, looked about as happy as Severa was.

Lucina, on the other hand, focused her attention on Felicia and Yashiro. "Emperor Yashiro?" Lucina asked in a tone of uncertainty. At her words, Severa, Owain, Symphony, and Harmony all stared at the unassuming violet-haired man.

"Yes, though I would prefer if you dropped the title, if not for good then at least until I return to Begnion," Yashiro requested.

"We thought we'd tag along and see if we could help," Felicia chimed in. "The senate approved this little venture. They just haven't realized it yet."

Lucina couldn't help but laugh. "That sounds just like my father with the noble houses," she said admiringly. "Only, my mother is not so easily fooled."

"Of course not," Cordelia agreed.

"But what are you all doing here?" Severa asked, confused. "We were going to head back to Begnion ourselves, once King Goldoa and King Phoenicis are done speaking with the nobles."

"Nothing's happening in Begnion right now," Morgan answered with a shrug. "At least out here we can get a better idea of what's going on."

"Indeed, a hero must waste no time in following the trail of darkness," Owain said, nodding solemnly.

"The only darkness _this_ trail leads to is bickering over money and titles," Severa said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. She gestured towards the castle's doorway. "It's a straight walk to the throne room where they're still talking and doing nothing. Enjoy."

"Thanks, Sis," Morgan said.

"Actually, I'd rather not draw too much attention to myself quite yet," Yashiro said. "Morgan, would you mind if Felicia and I remained with the others for now?"

"Sure," Morgan agreed easily. "I'm just going to listen in a bit so I have an idea of how things are shaping up. I probably won't stay very long. I doubt they'll pay much attention to me, anyways."

"We'll be up there on the wall," Lucina said, gesturing towards the torn battlement where they had been camped out for the most the day so far.


	3. Part One: Abyssal Moon

**~ Part One ~**

 **Abyssal Moon**

 _When I first laid my eyes on Tellius, I thought it looked beautiful and full of potential, in spite of Soren's grim warnings. In some ways, it was just like home. Lush green forests and open, verdant meadows lined the distant landscape, and lively ports dotted the coastline, resting amidst the pearly sands and rocky beaches. Then I saw the curtains of translucent, golden light, shimmering across the northern night sky, and I knew that for all the similarities I saw, I was still looking upon a foreign land brimming with mystery._

 _At the time, I could only think of the evening I spent chasing the fabled sky lights of Ferox, a short, lighthearted adventure that ended in mild disappointment. These lights were different, and yet something similar, and here they were, waiting for me, as if to welcome me to this distant world._

 _Now, when I think back upon that night, I can't help but see things in a different light. I can't help but see the eyes of Maelstrom and Extinction, swirling amidst the glowing ribbons, and the golden vapor that spills forth from fallen eidolons._

 _It was as if Tellius itself was trying to warn me that things here weren't as clean and lovely as they looked from afar. Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. The color was probably just a coincidence. Still, I saw the lights again the night after we defeated Extinction, as it to remind me of the thousands of eidolons plaguing Tellius still, or of Maelstrom, who's been unaccounted for ever since we battled him just off the Feroxi shores._

 _I've finally stopped dreaming about him. Instead, I find myself thinking of him whenever I'm awake. Even now that Extinction has been defeated, I can't quite shake the sense of dread and uselessness that I felt during our battle against him at Nevassa._

 _Will I ever see Maelstrom again? A big part of me wishes that I'll never have to face him, or Calamity either, for that matter. I had imagined that after Grima, no monster would ever truly strike fear into me again, but there was something terrifyingly surreal in the way Extinction threw himself into battle, effortlessly crushing through fortified stone walls and breaking almost all who stood against him._

 _But there's a soft voice nagging me, too, reminding me that if I were never to see Maelstrom again, I'd likely spend the rest of my life dreading his return. I remember overhearing Mom and Dad one night, a few weeks after we repelled Maelstrom from the Feroxi coast. They sounded afraid, and that, in itself, was more unsettling than Maelstrom had been. The worst part of it, as Dad said, is simply not knowing._

 _A very small part of me, a quiet voice that seems to go against all reason, wishes for Maelstrom to show himself so that we can face him and defeat him, putting those fears behind us for good. I know it's not rational, and that other horrors could one day arise, but somehow, that prospect feels less tangible than knowing that there's a massive whale-like abomination lurking somewhere beneath the ocean's surface._

 _This adventure may finally be nearing its end. We were able to defeat one of the three dire eidolons, and even if we don't know exactly where Calamity is, he's on the run. He's afraid, and when Uncle Chrom and the others find him, they'll put an end to him. The Redeemers, too, are running out of places to hide. Phoenicis and Daein have weathered their trials, and Begnion will stand fast against any of the Redeemers' subtle manipulations. If Emperor Yashiro's annoyance with his senate is even halfway justified, we'll all be dead of old age, even Soren, before the Redeemers can prompt Begnion into any sort of dangerous action._

 _Crimea and Gallia, the pinnacle of peace between Beorc and Laguz, is all that's left. We'll mend any rifts the Redeemers have torn, which will put an end to their schemes. If Maelstrom surfaces once more, we'll face him too, and put the last fear to rest forever._

 _And if he doesn't, then maybe we'll know peace sooner, even if I find myself thinking of him every time I see the glimmering golden lights reflected upon the moon._


	4. Chapter 1

**~ Chapter 1 ~**

"…and in the interest of restoring our broken peace, Duke Vortimer will brook no meager excuses from Gallia's traitorous queen."

"As I have already explained…"

"Yes, King Goldoa. You have made your suspicions perfectly clear, but with all due respect, you have yet to provide us with any conclusive evidence showing that these mysterious spirit charmers of yours even _exist_. You cannot expect my brother to dismiss everything we have witnessed firsthand on your word alone."

"The unfounded accusations you and your brother have leveled against Queen Gallia in your bid for the throne will only steer Crimea towards greater disaster," Kurth warned, staring hard at the formally-dressed young nobleman.

The noble shook his head. "The 'accusations' of which you speak stem from the queen's own missive," he reminded. "My lord brother is the rightful heir to the throne, and seeks only to claim that which rightfully belongs to him. Even that will come second to the responsibility he would assume. It falls to the people of our country to determine our course, which my lord brother would faithfully represent."

Despite her best efforts, Morgan could not quite stifle a yawn. Nervously, she looked around the audience to see if any of the dignitaries present were offended. She needn't have worried; none of the nobleman's entourage were paying her the slightest attention, anyways.

The only person to have noticed her mounting boredom was sitting by her side. She shrugged sheepishly when she saw Soren's pointed stare, but to her surprise, Soren only smiled and shook his head. Morgan couldn't help but feel as if she was being mocked, and stuck her tongue out at him childishly before turning her attention back to the conversation at hand.

But after only a few seconds, Morgan found her attention wandering once more. She found herself staring longingly at the empty chair on her other side, across from Soren.

Initially, her mother had accompanied her throughout the excruciatingly tedious conversations, but it became quickly apparent that there was little either of them could contribute. Hoping to spare her mother from the monotony, Morgan had asked her to tend to their Pegasi instead. After two days, Cordelia had finally relented.

Now, only a few short hours later, Morgan found herself wishing she had left as well. The conversations were painfully repetitive, with each noble espousing the same idle boasts and lofty, meaningless promises. Naturally, each noble who arrived was a distant relative of the late king, though purportedly separated by fewer generations than the nobles who had previously presented themselves. It all seemed perfectly ridiculous and an absolute waste of time.

But with King Goldoa sitting beside her, forging through it all patiently, Morgan could not help but feel obligated to stay and listen.

"Those who romanticize violence in the guise of patriotism may speak loudly, but they are outnumbered by those who comprehend the horrors lying along that course," Kurth insisted.

"Be that as it may, such a grave offense cannot be easily excused," the noble replied, dipping his head sorrowfully. "Duke Vortimer's promise of justice has been met with naught but approval from the populace here in Melior. I suspect it will be no different anywhere else in Crimea. Nevertheless, your words of caution have not fallen upon deaf ears, King Goldoa. I will send a courier to my lord brother immediately, sharing with him your suspicions and warnings."

Kurth nodded wearily. "Thank you," he said cordially, though he knew perfectly well that his warnings would be promptly disregarded, assuming that they were sent at all.

After a stiff, formal bow, the noble turned to depart, maintaining a pompous gait all the while. His entourage rose to follow, mimicking the noble's pretentious stride. When they were finally out of earshot, Kurth let out a long sigh of relief.

"Sorry. I'm not really much help, am I?" Morgan apologized meekly.

Kurth shook his head slowly. "It's not your fault, Morgan. At this point, it matters little how often these nobles are told the truth. It is for that same reason that I advised King Phoenicis to return to his home." He grinned wryly. "His company was a welcome reminder that there is still some sanity in the world, but there was little more he could offer."

"It is a shame that Morgan cannot help you in the same manner," Soren said in a deadpan tone.

It took a moment for his words to sink in, but when they did, Morgan turned and glared at him. "I am _not_ insane," she protested.

"You're subjecting yourself to _this_ , aren't you?" Soren remarked, gesturing at the now-empty audience chamber.

"So are you," Morgan retorted.

"Did I claim to be sane?" Soren yawned. "After all these years, I find sanity to be a bit dull, anyways."

"You find _everything_ a bit dull," Morgan reminded.

The harmless banter brought a smile to Kurth's face. "Well, if that extends to this ridiculous political posturing, then we're of one mind on the matter," he said amicably.

"I still don't understand why you have to speak to each of these nobles separately," Morgan said, trying not to let her annoyance show.

"It strokes their egos," Soren said derisively. "A personal audience with the king of Goldoa makes them feel powerful. You were too malleable, Kurth. If you hadn't acquiesced to the ridiculous demand the first time, then the others wouldn't be so daring now."

Morgan glanced nervously at Kurth. As approachable and amiable Kurth was, it still felt improper for someone to speak to the ancient king so casually. To her relief, Kurth did not appear to be offended in the slightest.

"It was a calculated risk," Kurth explained, closing his eyes. "I had hoped that by agreeing to a personal audience with each of them, some of them would better appreciate the gravity of the situation. Unfortunately, out of the fourteen nobles or representatives we've met with, only one seemed even remotely willing to listen."

"You mean Lady Lunete?" Morgan asked, remembering the young, fair-haired Crimean noblewoman who they had met with the previous evening. "She seemed fairly nice."

"Which generally makes for a terrible ruler," Soren said dismissively.

"Unfortunate, but true," Kurth agreed with a resigned shrug. "Thankfully, we're nearly finished, though what we will do after we've spoken with the last of the nobles is beyond me."

Soren stared at him, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "We would do better to cancel the remaining three audiences," he suggested.

"And risk slighting the future ruler of Crimea?" Kurth asked doubtfully. "I might not find these audiences enjoyable, but that is hardly the point."

"That wasn't my point, either," Soren said impatiently. "We may be running out of time. Catigern has raised a far more pressing concern than paying due respect to three more arrogant throne-hopefuls."

"What's a Catigern?" Morgan asked, frowning.

Kurth's lips quirked into a slight smile. "Lord Catigern was the gentleman we just spoke with," he explained. "His brother, Duke Vortimer, governs the southern city of Arbor and its surrounding regions."

"More pertinently, judging by Catigern's age, he may be right behind his brother in the line of succession," Soren said. "Note that while there were other nobles who sent representatives to make their claim upon the throne, those claims were always followed by repeated assurances that the claimant would be arriving in Melior shortly. Catigern made no mention of his brother's whereabouts."

Kurth shrugged, not understanding Soren's concern. "Arbor is very far from the capital. It will be quite some time before Duke Vortimer arrives."

Unlike Kurth, Morgan made the connection immediately. "Especially since he's not headed this way at all. He's preparing to invade Gallia by himself," she said heavily. She slumped back into her chair, her eyes tightly shut, and began reflecting upon their latest audience.

Kurth stared at Morgan and Soren blankly for several seconds, uncomprehending. "I'm afraid I do not follow," he finally admitted, when neither of them elaborated any further. "What makes you think Duke Vortimer would risk staging an invasion of Gallia on his own?"

"I've suspected for some time that _someone_ would take that risk," Soren admitted. "All of the claimants we have met with are significantly removed from the late king's bloodline. At this point, it's unlikely that succession will be determined by blood alone. The king's successor will have to win the approval of the senate, the populace, or both."

"Of course," Kurth agreed readily. "It is why they are so reluctant to believe our story. If they accept that Gallia was not responsible for the assassinations, there is no apparent course of action. They would sooner cling to the fiction that the Redeemers have painted with a clearly visible adversary in Gallia."

"Right. And while most of them are content making grand claims and promises, Duke Vortimer is situated close enough to take action instead," Morgan said softly without opening her eyes.

"Crimea's army was already dispersed across southern Gallia," Soren reminded. "Think about it, Kurth. What will happen if it becomes known that while the other nobles were here in the capital bickering with each other, Vortimer personally led an army of soldiers and commoners south, avenging the murdered king and princess?"

"Upon his return, he would find all the support he needs to claim the throne for himself," Kurth said slowly. "But that still doesn't seem plausible. Arbor should have only just received word of the king's death. There has not been enough time for Duke Vortimer to devise such a scheme and send word of it back to his brother here in Melior."

"You're right," Morgan said, opening her eyes at last. "This isn't Duke Vortimer's scheme. It's _Lord Catigern's_. Living here in Melior, he would have been among the first to learn of the vacant throne. He was here while all the other claimants came forth, and must have understood that he and his brother would need something more substantial to back their claim." She glanced at Soren, who nodded approvingly.

"Catigern stands to profit no matter how his brother's invasion plays out," Soren added, for the benefit of the thoroughly bewildered dragon king. "If Vortimer returns victorious, he will ascend to the throne, leaving his former domain for Catigern. If Vortimer instead falls in battle, Catigern can try to claim the throne himself by painting his brother as a martyr. Even if that attempt fails, Arbor will still belong to him."

"So you believe Lord Catigern is using his brother," Kurth mused. "If you're right, we may still be able to prevent such an invasion. We can travel to Arbor by warp powder and reveal the truth of Lord Catigern's plans to his brother."

"What good will that do?" Soren asked doubtfully. "If Vortimer is even half as arrogant as his brother, he would still consider invading Gallia to be his best move forward."

"Besides, Duke Vortimer might not be the only one who would consider invading Gallia," Morgan added worriedly. "Once the other nobles have had a chance to think the situation over, I'm sure there'll be others who come to the same conclusion. Even if we manage to dissuade Duke Vortimer, there will be others ready to seize the opportunity."

"Our enemies were clever," Soren admitted grudgingly. "They didn't just leave a gulf in Crimea's leadership, they did so in a way that would incense the Crimean commoners. The nobles who want to step into the void left by King Crimea will be led by the very people they are meant to lead."

"They will be led straight to disaster," Morgan predicted unhappily. "If the nobles are racing with each other to make the first move, they won't have time to organize their invasion properly."

"Crimea's armies will need supply lines and equipment. Gallia's armies need neither; Laguz soldiers are skilled foragers and naturally armed," Soren agreed.

"Since Queen Gallia was reluctant to mobilize her army, Gallia's population has been left vulnerable and dispersed across the countryside," Kurth said, thinking furiously. "But once she realizes her country is under attack, she will rally her people and crush the invasion."

"Gallia will eventually win, but by the end, both countries would have suffered staggering losses," Morgan summarized grimly.

Abruptly, Kurth stood and began reaching for his belongings. "You're right, Soren. This political posturing will have to wait," he announced.

"Then you have a plan?" Soren questioned.

"I do. I will gather my people and lead them to Gallia's aid," Kurth pronounced gravely.

"Goldoa will intervene directly?" Soren asked, unable to hide his surprise.

"As a last resort, yes," Kurth said. "Even if the Crimean nobility refuses to heed our warnings, the Crimean people may yet listen to reason. We will demand that both Crimea and Gallia accept a ceasefire and stand down, then state the truth plainly and openly for all to hear."

"You can't do that," Morgan said softly, shaking her head.

"I have to," Kurth disagreed. "We cannot stand by and allow another war to break out."

Morgan shook her head quickly. "Goldoa cannot intervene. If the Crimeans trust their leaders more than they trust you, you will risk starting another war between Beorc and Laguz," she clarified. "Back in Phoenicis, we already saw that not all of the old grudges have entirely faded. If the Crimeans would rather continue believing that Gallia was at fault, then it will look to them as if you were siding with your fellow Laguz."

"But Goldoa has an established reputation as a neutral party," Kurth argued. He looked to Soren, hoping to find some support.

"True," Soren conceded, after carefully considering Kurth's claim. "But Morgan is right. You did not intercede, or show any intention to intercede, when it was Gallia posturing aggressively and hurling unfounded accusations at Crimea. If you take a different stance now that the defending party is Laguz, few Crimeans would still be willing to consider you a neutral party."

"The situation was different, then," Kurth protested. "And we _did_ take action before. We traveled to Gallia just before coming here to Melior, remember?" he reminded.

"You personally met with Gallia's queen in a formal audience. That's quite different from leading Goldoa's army onto a battlefield and presenting Crimea's armies with your proposed ultimatum," Soren pointed out. "Especially considering that Crimea's only real advantage will be the element of surprise, an advantage that will be lost if they accede to your demand for a ceasefire."

"Then what do you suggest we do instead? Stand by and allow Crimea and Gallia to destroy one another?" Kurth demanded, his expression hardening.

"That would obviously be less than ideal," Soren replied in an irritated tone. "But just as it was with Phoenicis, we cannot allow this conflict to spread further."

"Just as it was with Phoenicis…" Morgan echoed thoughtfully, silently pondering another possibility.

"It's not the perfect analogy," Soren admitted. "The Phoenician Civil War was founded upon Lister's blatant and thinly-veiled lies. Once we exposed him, the war was essentially over. Exposing the Redeemers in the same fashion won't be easy. I think our best chance is to make sure Gallia is prepared for an invasion. Maybe it will be enough to convince the Crimean nobles to rethink trying to make their mark."

"But when we deliver our warning, Gallia will likely expect us to help them, since we know they are innocent of the crimes they have been accused of," Kurth said. "Would it not be just as damaging for us to refuse them?"

Soren shrugged. "Remind them that your people are away assisting in Phoenicis' reconstruction, and cannot reach Gallia in time to help," he suggested. "Besides, if Gallia remains anywhere near as prideful as I remember, they will be confident in their ability to defeat any incursions themselves."

"But that will lead directly to what we were hoping to avoid," Morgan protested. "Once Gallia prepares its armies, an open war between them and Crimea will be inevitable." Her expression grew hesitant as she continued toying with the idea Soren's analogy had inspired. "I may have another solution," she said reluctantly.

Soren only raised his eyebrow skeptically, taking note of the younger tactician's nervousness, but Kurth seemed quite relieved. "Truly?" the dragon king asked hopefully.

"Crimea is wounded. We cannot hope to deter an invasion at this point," Morgan began. "We can only try to minimize the damage, but even forewarned, Gallia will still end up sustaining heavy casualties. The Laguz might be naturally equipped for battle, but Gallia isn't prepared for war. Gallia cannot stand against the invasion alone, and there's only one country that can oppose Crimea's rogue soldiers openly without appearing to be siding with Gallia over Crimea."

Noticing Morgan's careful choice of words, Soren understood her meaning at once. "The only force that can oppose any attempts to invade Gallia while remaining unequivocally in support of Crimea is Crimea itself," he realized aloud.

Kurth gaped at Morgan, aghast. "You want to start _another_ civil war?" he asked.

Morgan shook head immediately. "Of course not!" she exclaimed. "But there has to be _some_ people here in Crimea who will listen to the truth. If we can find them and offer them our help, instead of opposing Crimea as a whole and pushing the Crimeans to band together against us, we'll only be opposing a single, warmongering faction."

"It's a good thought, but if two distinct factions arise, the leader of the victorious faction will have a strong claim upon the throne," Soren cautioned. "That makes it unlikely for Vortimer, or anyone else attempting to stage an invasion, to be willing to back down."

"I know. It could backfire pretty badly," Morgan admitted.

"Then again," Soren went on thoughtfully. "If we could persuade Gallia to stay clear, we may be able to contain the fighting within Crimea, or at least, between Crimean forces. It will depend on the relative strength of the allies we can find."

"If our audiences with the Crimean nobles are any indication, we'll be lucky to find any allies in Crimea at all," Kurth said sourly.

"So far, we've been asking them to do nothing, only wait. There's no political advantage to be won in that. We're asking something different of them now. We're asking them to stand against their peers who are on the verge of inviting disaster and war upon their country," Soren said.

"Then we should head down to Arbor first," Morgan suggested. "We'll need to be certain that Duke Vortimer is really gathering Crimean soldiers to his side before we try to recruit our own allies." She rose from her seat and reached for her bag of warp powder.

"You're leaving right now?" Kurth asked, gaping at her.

"The sooner we confirm our theory, the better," Soren said with a shrug. He, too, rose to leave. "This won't take long. We'll be back in time for the next audience, hopefully."

"Should I go ahead and meet with the next of the nobles, then?" Kurth asked.

"Probably," Morgan said.

"I don't see any reason not to," Soren said, in spite of his earlier claim. "But we'll see when we get to Arbor. Where to, Morgan?"

"Just outside the city's gates, I guess," Morgan said.

"Which gate?" Soren pressed. "I'd rather us not be separated upon our arrival."

"The north one, then," Morgan said, shrugging. She turned to Kurth. "If the others ask, tell them we'll be right back, okay?"

* * *

Morgan was the first to arrive. The weariness induced by her warp powder began to set in immediately, and she did not resist. Instead, she plopped herself down upon the grassy meadow and leaned back, enjoying the fresh air for a moment before turning her attention to the city's gates.

The towering walls of Arbor, formed from thick logs tightly bound together, looked quite formidable. They weren't quite as impressive as the walls of stone brick surrounding Melior, Nevassa, or Sienne, but they were more than Morgan had expected from a countryside city so distant from the capital.

But as sturdy as the wall itself appeared, the opening was deserted. "Weird," Morgan muttered to herself. "Shouldn't there be guards watching the entrance?"

"Probably, but does it still surprise you how so much of Tellius is thoroughly unprepared for danger?" Soren asked mildly.

Morgan turned to find Soren standing right behind her. "I guess not," she conceded. "You know, it's really weird to think about it, but we haven't been in Tellius for very long, have we?"

"Just over a month, I think," Soren estimated.

"Which isn't even as long as our voyage here was," Morgan said. "But it feels like it's been so much longer. Maybe it's because we can travel from one corner to the other with warp powder, but it's almost easy to forget that most of Tellius is still..."

"Only barely cognizant of the troubles stirring," Soren finished. "You're right, of course, but their complacency still puts them at fault. Port Toha was destroyed nearly two years ago, remember? And supposedly, the eidolons have been appearing all over the place ever since, yet most of Tellius was content in moving on with their lives."

"I guess they were just ignoring it all, in hopes that someone else would take care of it," Morgan said.

"Sure. Someone else like a dragon king who's bitten off more than he can chew, or maybe a band of meddling fools from another continent," Soren answered.

"That's aimed at me, isn't it?" Morgan asked, smiling weakly.

"Hardly you alone. I'm still here, too, aren't I?" Soren pointed out wryly. "Not to mention your family and friends."

"Yeah. Well, if they're really counting on us, I'd hate to let them all down," Morgan concluded. She rose to her feet shakily. "Come on. Let's check out the city."

* * *

As yet another delegation of scribes and aides filed into the throne room, Kurth nervously glanced at the window behind the throne, noting that the sky outside was growing dark. He had already spoken with the other two nobles he was scheduled to meet with, and now, the last noble had arrived.

"King Kurthnaga of Goldoa. It is an honor."

Upon being addressed directly, Kurth immediately turned to his latest guest, hiding his discomfort. "Good evening, Lord Tristan," he replied. Reasoning that there was little he could do regarding his fears, Kurth put them out of mind, and as soon as the noble and his men were seated, he launched into his story once more, for what felt like the hundredth time.

When Kurth was roughly halfway through with his story, the doors quietly opened again. Even then, the motion drew the attention of the noble and all of his counsel. Morgan shot them an apologetic look before silently scurrying to her seat. Soren simply ignored their suspicious stares as he followed suit.

"Go on," Morgan urged, when Kurth continued to stare at the two of them questioningly. With no other choice, Kurth went on with his retelling, stopping only when he finished describing the Redeemers' attack upon Castle Crimea.

"King Goldoa, I am afraid that what you have learned throughout your recent escapades is not entirely consistent with what we know," the noble began, after a pregnant pause. "I do not mean to offend; I wholeheartedly believe your tale, of course, but to me, it seems as if you have leapt to conclusions far too quickly. In doing so, you have trusted the words of those who cannot be so easily trusted, and made many vast assumptions."

"Really, now?" Kurth asked, his tone growing cold.

"Really," Tristan assured. "It may surprise you to learn that not all of us Crimean nobles agreed with the late King Geoffrey in disregarding the tragedy that befell Port Toha. I invested many resources in conducting my own investigation, and I am certain that I was not alone in doing so."

"And what did you learn from your investigation?" Kurth pressed.

"I learned much about the petty assassins who call themselves the Redeemers. It does not surprise me that they poured their time and effort into retrieving an ancient artifact, or to punish a traitor from their organization. But like any other common assassins, they seek profit, not war," Tristan declared in a patronizing tone. "They were but instruments in the ghastly murders of our beloved king and princess. They will be made to pay for their crimes, in due time, but we must first attend to the true perpetrators of this criminal act."

"But these so-called instruments _were_ the true perpetrators," Kurth said, trying his best to suppress his mounting frustration.

"I beg your pardon, but how can you be certain of that?" Tristan asked doubtfully. "I understand that you believe this to be connected to the Fire Emblem, an artifact related to your adventures hundreds of years past, but you yourself admitted that the artifact was thought to be devoid of further power. You cannot be certain how the artifact now works, or even whether the assassins…"

"That's enough," Soren interrupted.

Tristan and his retainers turned to Soren, their expressions a mixture of incredulity and outrage.

"For the sake of your own selfish games, you willfully ignore one of the oldest and wisest men alive. What, then, do you intend to do?" Soren demanded bluntly. "Will you march south and force a war with Gallia? Try to unite your people behind you, only to send thousands of them to their deaths?"

The offended noble rounded upon Kurth furiously. "King Goldoa, this is outrageous! I demand…"

"Because if that was your plan, you're far too late," Soren concluded, as if the noble hadn't even spoken. "After recruiting a few hundred Crimean soldiers and as many mercenaries as he could find, Duke Vortimer of Arbor set out two nights ago. Maybe you should hurry south and see if he still has a place for you among his ranks."

A suffocating silence fell over the room, and for several seconds, the noble could only stare at Soren, dumbfounded. "What are you saying?" Tristan finally stammered.

Soren nodded subtly towards Morgan, knowing that Tristan's temper had only been temporarily abated and needing her support.

Morgan understood at once. "We just returned from Arbor. Nearly every able-bodied man in the city is gone, including all of the city's watchmen," she explained. "Duke Vortimer aims to seize Castle Gallia before Gallia can properly mobilize."

Though he had been forewarned of that possibility, Kurth looked to be even more shocked than Tristan and his entourage. "They are already marching south?" he gasped.

"They will be crossing the border into Gallia within three days," Morgan confirmed. Her expression grew worried. "His force numbers just over five hundred, from all accounts," she added.

"Only five hundred?" Kurth frowned.

"How do you know all this?" Tristan interrupted suspiciously. "Arbor is almost a week away!"

"After our audience with Lord Catigern, I asked them to visit Arbor," Kurth explained quickly. "They did so by the same magical means we used to travel here from Phoenicis."

"But…" Tristan began to protest.

"We're not going to give you a demonstration, no," Soren said. "Either you believe us when we tell you that a war with Gallia is not in your best interest, or you do not. If you do not, you are simply wasting our time."

"If you do believe us, then help us," Morgan urged. "We have to stop the duke. Even after they reach Gallia, it will take at least another week for them to reach the capital. If Gallia learns of the invasion and mounts a proper defense, Duke Vortimer's forces will be crushed."

" _If_ you're telling us the truth," Tristan began doubtfully. "What can we hope to do now?" His expression suddenly brightened. "Unless, of course, King Goldoa is willing to endorse my name before the Crimean senate. With their support, I may be able to muster the rest of Crimea's military might."

"And you'll be only two week's march behind Vortimer. You may even reach him in time to see his forces overwhelmed," Soren retorted sarcastically.

Tristan glared angrily at Soren, then rounded upon Kurth instead. "I did not come here to be insulted," he seethed.

Kurth, too, had finally had enough. "Indeed you did not," he agreed. "Just as I did not come here to involve myself in Crimea's politics. I invited you here so that I could share my story with you. If you share my concerns for your country's wellbeing, then I ask that you offer us what help you can without further delay, and without making any more demands of us."

The pompous lord stiffened as if he had been struck. For a moment, it looked as if another angry retort was forthcoming. Then he seemed to calm, as if he had just remembered who, or rather, _what_ , Kurth was. "I will need some time to consider your words," he said stiffly. "Thank you for your time, King Goldoa."

"Thank you, and you are welcome," Kurth said, as Tristan and his entourage rose to leave.

As soon as their guests were gone, Morgan spoke up. "Soren, maybe you should let Kurth handle the negotiations from now on," she suggested, trying and failing to hide a slight smile.

"I don't think it would have made a difference," Kurth said dejectedly.

"She knows, or else she wouldn't be so amused," Soren commented offhandedly. He frowned. "What worries me is that I expect most of the nobles we have met with to react to the news the same way," he added.

"Duke Vortimer may be taking a huge risk, but he already has the upper hand," Morgan agreed. "Even though he only has a few hundred soldiers, Crimea's army is just too spread out right now. It'll be hard to amass a force large enough to challenge him before it's too late."

"Didn't you mention that Duke Vortimer and his forces were already nearing the border?" Kurth questioned.

"Just about three days out," Soren said.

"Isn't it too late already, then?" Kurth asked hesitantly. "Even if we could rally and organize all the rest of Crimea's soldiers immediately, we wouldn't be able to reach them before they reached Gallia. We don't have enough warp powder to move an army, do we?"

"No, we don't," Morgan admitted.

"Then does it even matter if anyone here in Crimea is willing to support us?" Kurth pointed out. "Perhaps we should just go to Gallia now, and warn them so that they could fend off the attack themselves."

"Do you really think Gallia will simply stop after defeating Vortimer? Or that losing a fraction of their scattered military will be enough to bring Crimea's nobles to their senses?" Soren challenged.

"So we can't allow Gallia's army to fight against Duke Vortimer's forces, even though they are the only army that's close enough to intercept Duke Vortimer and strong enough to win out," Kurth summarized.

"That sounds about right," Soren said lightly.

"Don't worry, we came up with an idea," Morgan said quickly, recognizing Kurth's distress. Soren stared at her pointedly. "Okay, _I_ came up with an idea," she amended hastily. "Soren just rolled his eyes and mumbled something about it being the best of a bunch of terrible options."

"A description that can be applied to most of this misadventure of yours," Soren quipped.

"What's your plan?" Kurth asked hopefully.

"Forget about trying to find an army. We don't want to destroy Duke Vortimer's forces, anyways. All we need is a few Crimean nobles to back us up, and some of their bodyguards, or maybe any Crimean mercenaries they can hire," Morgan explained. "We'll travel to Gallia's capital together and explain everything to Queen Gallia, and ask her to evacuate her people and leave Duke Vortimer to us."

"Even if we, and your friends, are fighting alongside them, we'll still be outnumbered ten-to-one or worse," Kurth reminded.

"Exactly how is that any different from our battle against the Redeemers in the mountains?" Soren asked wryly. "We won't win if we challenge Duke Vortimer head-on, but I'm fairly certain we can outmaneuver him as he marches blindly through a foreign land."

"If we can capture him while fighting in the name of other Crimean nobles, the invasion will end," Morgan said confidently. "We just have to find someone to represent us. Otherwise, it will just look like we, or rather, _you_ , King Goldoa, are trying to wage war against Crimea."

"So if we can find someone to represent us, then Crimea's nobles will be left arguing amongst themselves. Hopefully, we can end the threat of the Redeemers for good before things deteriorate too far," Kurth concluded. "That may work, but it still leaves us with a major problem."

"Finding Crimean nobles who we can trust, and who are willing to take the risk of standing by us," Soren agreed.

"I suppose we'd better get started," Kurth said with a sigh.

* * *

"Alright, that's it," Severa declared abruptly, hopping down from her perch atop one of Castle Crimea's battlements.

"Where are you going, Sev?" Lucina asked, though she thought she knew the answer already.

"To check on Morgan and the others," Severa replied predictably. "It's getting late, and they have yet to set foot outside the castle today."

"They may still be in the middle of a meeting," Yashiro reminded.

"Their last meeting should have been over hours ago," Severa pointed out, deliberately forgetting the other nobles who had arrived unexpectedly throughout the afternoon. "I'm just going to see if they need anything. Oh, and to make sure Morgan didn't accidentally starve herself again," she added, when her mother looked as if she was about to protest.

"I'll come with you," Cordelia decided quickly, her objections forgotten.

But the castle door swung open just as they reached it, and a tired Morgan stepped outside, accompanied by a pair of guards. She smiled when she saw her mother and sister approaching. "Hello!" she greeted cheerfully.

"What took you so long?" Severa demanded impatiently. "You said you'd be finished just after noon!"

"Is everything alright?" Cordelia asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Sort of, anyways," Morgan said. "King Goldoa began asking the other nobles for help with the invasion, but many left the city already, or just ignored our request."

"Invasion?" Cordelia asked, startled.

"Oh, right. One of Crimea's dukes rounded up a bunch of soldiers and mercenaries and is marching towards Gallia," Morgan explained. "It's a long story. I'll explain later, when we're on the road," she added hastily, when both her mother and sister stared at her blankly.

"On the road? We're leaving right now?" Severa asked.

"Yep. We don't have much time," Morgan replied. "I promised King Goldoa I'd make all the preparations to leave."

"Symphony and Iris are off wandering the grounds, but everyone else is waiting up there already," Cordelia said, gesturing up towards the damaged wall. "But are you sure we should be leaving right now? It's growing late, Morgan."

"I know, but the sooner we warn the queen, the better," Morgan said. "Severa, could you go find Symphony and Iris for me?"

"Sure," Severa agreed easily, please with the prospect of leaving Crimea at last, despite the late hour.

"Thanks," Morgan called after her as she set off, disappearing around the corner. "If everyone else is already here, all we have to do is make sure we have plenty of supplies.

"We should have everything we need," Cordelia assured confidently. "What about the help King Goldoa was asking for? Will some of the soldiers be traveling with us?"

"I wish," Morgan said regretfully. "It'll just be us, two nobles, and three of their servants."

"We're off to stop an invasion with less than twenty people?" Cordelia asked doubtfully.

"We were planning to send someone to Phoenicis to find some more reinforcements, but not too many, since we still have to use warp powder to bring them to our side," Morgan said. "It'll be okay. We'll work out all the details once we have a better idea what we're up against," she promised.


	5. Chapter 2

**~ Chapter 2 ~**

The pair of Laguz soldiers keeping watch over the gates of Castle Gallia were understandably shocked when a group of foreigners materialized before them, seemingly out of thin air. "King Goldoa!" one of them exclaimed, recognizing the Laguz king at once.

"Good evening," Kurth replied politely. "My apologies for not sending word ahead of time. We have urgent news for Queen Carina."

The two guards exchanged nervous glances; both had immediately noticed that Kurth's entourage was almost entirely comprised of Beorc, and that at least one of their visitors was clad in an elegant white dress, typical of Crimean noblewomen. At the same time, neither of them really wanted to argue with the legendary king. "Certainly," one of the two guards finally decided. "This way, Your Majesty."

The castle's sudden and unexpected guests followed the two Laguz soldiers, slowly making their way down the wide hallways of the old, stone fortress. Apart from the two guards, the castle appeared to be deserted. Given the late hour, it wasn't entirely unexpected, but Morgan couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. "Severa," she whispered, nudging her sister gently.

"Hmm?"

"Was this castle this quiet last time?" Morgan asked quietly.

"How should I know?" Severa said, frowning. "Last time we were here, only the Laguz visited the castle. The rest of us waited just outside the city."

Concerned, Morgan peered ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of King Goldoa's expression.

"Besides, we've only met these two guards so far. Everyone else is probably asleep," Severa added irritably, reminding her sister of the late hour in her typical less-than-subtle manner.

One of the guards overheard Severa's complaint and let out a short, dry bout of laughter. "I wish," he chuckled darkly. "Almost everyone's away, spreading the word. Your timing was pretty much perfect; the queen herself was planning to set out tomorrow morning."

"She's leaving? Has word of the invasion already reached the capital?" Kurth asked, surprised.

"Of course," the second soldier said glumly. "Though I don't know if 'invasion' is the right word for it. The beast is just drifting along the coastline, sacking whatever villages it happens by."

"Beast? What beast?" Morgan asked, alarmed.

The first guard stared at her curiously. "Haven't you heard? There's some sort of monster floating just off the coast. It's destroyed four villages already, maybe more by now. The general insists Crimea is responsible, but I don't know about that. It sounds more like one of those eidolon creatures. We've been trying our best to ignore the fiendish things, but maybe they've finally gotten out of hand."

"Or maybe the general is right," the second guard added, studiously avoiding the gazes of their Beorc guests. "The stories claim that the eidolons have something to do with Beorc magic. The stories also speak of other giant eidolons, too."

"Does the eidolon look sort of like a giant whale?" Morgan asked urgently. "Black all over, with a skeletal-looking head and glowing yellow eyes?"

"So you _do_ know of it," the suspicious guard said.

Morgan grimaced and shot Kurth a nervous look, silently wondering if perhaps they weren't as welcome in Gallia as they had hoped.

"We do know of it, but I promise that neither I, nor any of my companions, are working alongside it," Kurth assured, as they came to a doorway veiled by a set of thick, red drapes.

The guard shrugged noncommittally, as if to say that what the guests knew was none of his business, anyways. Then he moved ahead, pushing through the drapes and into the throne room. "Queen Gallia, King Goldoa has returned," he announced.

"Send him in," a weary voice instructed him.

The other soldier pulled the drapes aside, and with a wave, ushered them inside.

The throne room was almost empty. A large map of Gallia had been laid out on the ground, and a rather small Laguz woman with cat-like ears was kneeling beside it.

"It is good to see you again, Queen Carina," Kurth greeted, inclining his head politely.

Morgan stared at the Laguz woman wonderingly. Gallia's queen looked surprisingly ordinary. Her clothing actually looked less formal than the outfits her guards wore, reminding Morgan instead of the traveling outfits that the Daein Laguz merchants had worn.

"It's good to see you again, too, King Goldoa," Carina replied. She tossed aside the piece of charcoal she had been idly poking at the map with before standing and returning to her throne. "Have you heard of the creature terrorizing our coastline, then?"

"Only just now, from your guards," Kurth admitted.

"Is it related to the Beorc cult that you mentioned in our last meeting?" Carina asked, fearing the worst.

"I believe so," Kurth replied. "If I'm not mistaken, the eidolon you speak of is Maelstrom, the same eidolon that surfaced in Crimea and laid waste to Port Toha two years ago."

Carina nodded slowly in recognition. "I still remember the day we learned of the eidolon's attack. Many feared that the eidolon would threaten our country next, but there was no sign of the beast, and we thought the worst was over."

"Never before has Tellius been faced with more than one of the dire eidolons at any point in time," Kurth agreed solemnly. "Our situation was grim enough when Extinction and Calamity were released almost simultaneously. I suppose we should have expected Maelstrom's return, in hindsight."

"Please tell me you're here with news from Crimea," Carina said, wearing a crooked grin. "I have yet to receive any Crimean messengers, and with each passing day, it grows harder to convince my advisors that Crimea remains our ally." As she spoke, she glanced behind Kurth, and like her guards, she immediately took note of the finely-dressed Crimean noblewoman.

Kurth motioned towards the noblewoman and the small, decrepit nobleman standing behind her. The older nobleman flinched and glanced towards the other noble. The noblewoman took his reluctance in stride, presenting herself without hesitation.

"Your Majesty, I am Lady Lunete of Crimea," she said, introducing herself politely. "This is Duke Cerdic, who rules over Felirae." The duke only nodded nervously as Lunete introduced him. "I am sorry to hear of the troubles your people face, and regret that our news will only burden you further," she said apologetically.

"I do not believe Crimea was responsible for the massacres, especially in light of King Goldoa's warnings," Carina assured. "King Crimea's word alone will be enough to convince most of my advisors of the truth."

"King Crimea is dead," Lunete replied bluntly.

Carina stared at her in disbelief.

"When we received word of the massacre, Princess Crimea set out from the capital to personally bring you the king's assurance that Crimea was not responsible in any way," Lunete explained. "Not long after, assassins descended upon Castle Crimea. The king and princess were both found dead in the throne room, along with a threatening note signed with your name."

Carina blanched visibly. " _My_ name?"

Lunete and Cerdic both nodded.

"But… I didn't…" Carina tried to protest.

"We know," Lunete said quickly. "King Goldoa and his companions were in Melior at the time. They witnessed the attack and recognized the assassins, and were quick to spread the truth to all who would listen."

"But many would not," Cerdic interrupted, speaking up for the first time just as Carina began to look relieved.

"I'm sorry to say that some of our peers still stubbornly refuse to accept King Goldoa's explanations," Lunete said regretfully. "Our country has effectively been incapacitated by the death of King Geoffrey, but word of the assassination has spread south to Arbor. Rather than awaiting the senate's formal decision, Duke Vortimer has chosen to take matters into his own hands. Taking advantage of the confusion, he has rallied a sizable force of Crimean soldiers and mercenaries. He aims to capture Castle Gallia himself and avenge our late king."

Carina turned to Kurth, horrorstruck.

"It's true," Kurth confirmed grimly. "A rogue Crimean army is marching south as we speak and will soon cross into Gallian territory."

"Right now? With a dire eidolon roaming our coastline?" Carina asked despairingly. "We cannot afford to wage war against our neighbors in this state!"

"Neither can Crimea," Kurth said. "That's why we're here." He nodded slightly towards Soren. "This is Soren, who you may remember from stories of the Radiant Hero. He helped us greatly in restoring order to Phoenicis, and again in defeating Extinction in Daein, just a few days ago."

Carina glanced at Soren, her face screwing up in confusion. "Soren? The Beorc mage?"

" _Branded_ ," Soren corrected. "Though King Goldoa's praise is misplaced. It was my companion, Morgan, who orchestrated those battles and ultimately defeated Extinction. Likewise, she was the one who devised our current strategy," he added, nudging the younger tactician forward.

"Wait, Morgan did what?" Owain gasped, before Severa clamped her hand firmly over his mouth.

Morgan was reluctant to present her plan by herself, especially to someone as important as Gallia's ruler. She ignored Owain's interruption, and shot Soren a plaintive look, but the older tactician only shrugged and shamelessly took a step back from Morgan's side, which had the same effect as if she had stepped forward instead. Left with no other choice, Morgan turned and addressed the queen. "Queen Gallia, we were hoping that you would allow us to handle the Crimean invasion," she began timidly. "All that we ask is that you keep your own people away from Duke Vortimer and his forces, and lend us a few of your soldiers to serve as messengers."

Carina stared at her calculatingly, before breaking into a faint smile. "I'm not exactly in a position to turn down an offer like that," she admitted. "We've rallied a sizable force already, but our soldiers are marching for our besieged coast rather than the border. What are you planning?"

"We expect that Duke Vortimer's army is poorly coordinated, and that many of his soldiers have been misled," Morgan explained. "We intend to contest the duke's march with a small and mobile force, hampering his progress and discouraging his followers."

"Our people are blinded by anger and by Duke Vortimer's warmongering propaganda, but they have not entirely forgotten our peaceful relations," Lunete added confidently. "Once King Goldoa and his companions have stalled their march, Duke Cerdic and I will persuade them to reconsider their actions and return peacefully to their homes."

"We can't promise that our battle will be fully contained," Morgan confessed. "Even though Duke Vortimer's army is small, it is many times the size of ours, and our intent isn't to destroy them, anyways. That's why we'll need your help to evacuate any of Gallia's civilians along the invasion's course."

"Is this your entire force?" Carina asked uneasily as she quickly took count of her visitors.

"Not quite," Morgan quickly assured, hiding a twinge of discomfort. While it was technically true that their entire force was not currently present, only Nasir was missing. King Goldoa had sent Nasir back to Phoenicis in hopes of finding a few Goldoan or Phoenician reinforcements, but given their limited stocks of warp powder, their final headcount wouldn't be much greater than it was now.

The perceptive queen sensed Morgan's discomfort and pursed her lips thoughtfully, but chose not to comment further. "Alright," Carina conceded. "I was to leave for the coast myself tomorrow, along with the rest of Gallia's soldiers who remain here in the castle, but I will send six of them to accompany you as messengers instead. Most of my men are resting right now, in preparation for our march. Can you wait until tomorrow to depart?"

"We can, and six should be more than enough. Thank you, Your Majesty," Morgan said gratefully.

"I should be thanking _you_ ," Carina replied. "My guards will show you to the castle's guest quarters. Your messengers will be awaiting you in the courtyard tomorrow morning."

* * *

"So, that's our plan right now," Morgan said, as she finished bringing her father up-to-date on everything that had happened since leaving Sienne. "What do you think?"

"It's a bit of a risk, turning the Crimeans against each other when they are under so much pressure already," Robin said thoughtfully. "But I think it's the right call; a war against another country would be absolutely devastating to them."

"Everything we've learned about Duke Vortimer's army points to it being poorly organized," Morgan said confidently. "We'll try to study them further before committing to an attack, but I'm sure we can capture the duke with minimal casualties on both sides."

"Just remember, keep a close eye upon your allies, too," Robin reminded gently. "Remember what happened in Phoenicis with Princess Celera?"

"Yeah. I'll be careful," Morgan promised, though she had begun to notice a pattern in the way none of her recent plans had ever been fully carried out as intended. Given that their reinforcements had yet to arrive, Morgan fully expected this trend to continue.

As always, her father seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. He smiled reassuringly, and tactfully changed the subjected instead. "So, Maelstrom is back, too," Robin mused. "I guess you and Owain were right; we weren't quite finished with him, after all. Do you think Gallia is strong enough to defeat the eidolon on their own?"

Morgan winced. "I doubt it," she admitted. "I didn't want to comment on it during our meeting; King Goldoa warned us about how important pride and independence are to the Laguz. Still, I don't see how they even plan to do battle against Maelstrom. The beast Laguz fight with their fangs and claws, which won't be of much help unless the eidolon leaves the ocean for some reason."

"Well, I'm sure they have a plan of some sort," Robin said comfortingly.

"Probably," Morgan agreed, with more confidence than she felt. "How's everything in Begnion?"

"It's been reasonably quiet, save for the Begnion Senate," Robin said. "From what I heard, the senators have been in a complete uproar ever since two days ago, when one of the emperor's aides presented them with a message from the emperor announcing his intent to visit Crimea personally."

"Emperor Yashiro guessed as much," Morgan said, laughing lightly.

"It was a pretty safe bet," Robin said wryly. "The senators still aren't sure how Emperor Yashiro and General Felicia left the city undetected, but they're reluctant to entrust their sovereign's safety to the general alone. Several members of the Holy Guard are flying towards Crimea now, hoping to catch up to their emperor." His expression grew grave. "Morgan, their fears aren't entirely unfounded. If any harm befalls the emperor now, Begnion, too, could grow unstable."

"I know," Morgan sighed. "When we set out from Crimea, I asked him if he wanted to return to Begnion, but he insisted upon staying. We'll protect him as best we can. Hopefully, we can sort out everything before Begnion's Pegasus knights reach Crimea and realize he isn't there, though that depends on how Gallia's army does in their battle against Maelstrom."

"Don't worry about Maelstrom right now," Robin said, shaking his head. "You've got too much on your mind already with the Crimeans approaching."

"But…" Morgan began to protest.

"Leave Maelstrom to me, then," Robin interrupted. "I'll get the ballistae back in shape, and see if there's anything else I can come up with that would help. That way, if Queen Gallia does ask for your help after the duke is dealt with, we'll have something to offer her right away."

"Really?" Morgan asked eagerly.

"Really," Robin promised. "So don't worry about it, alright? And protecting the emperor is important, but make sure you take good care of yourself and your sister, too."

"I will," Morgan assured. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem. Good luck," Robin said. The mirror went dark a moment later, and Robin leaned back in his seat with his eyes tightly shut, contemplating the monumental task he had just volunteered for. "She has quite an exaggerated idea of what I'm capable of," he said to himself, sighing wearily.

* * *

As soon as the mirror's spell ended, Morgan set off towards their camp amidst the abandoned ruins of a small village. Her fears regarding Maelstrom had been assuaged, only to be replaced by her doubts regarding the Begnion Emperor and their coming campaign.

She was forcibly reminded of another major uncertainty upon arriving at their temporary encampment and spotting Nasir, standing by Kurth's side along with several others.

"Hello, Morgan," Nasir greeted kindly.

"Welcome back," Morgan said absently, her attention drawn to one of the several bird Laguz accompanying Nasir. "Prince Valent?"

"In the flesh," Valent replied cheerfully. "Strife's a bit busy, and Celera isn't about to leave his side again. Figured it was my turn for a brawl or five."

"Bodyguards, officially," Nasir explained, when he saw Morgan's curious glance towards the other four bird Laguz. "At King Phoenicis' insistence."

"Bodyguards! Bah!" one of them, a burly hawk with dark brown hair, scoffed. "That's the last thing old Valent needs. We just thought we'd come and wring a few necks, too." The other three cheered in unison.

Morgan struggled to keep her dismay from showing, but Nasir wasn't fooled. "Don't worry, Morgan," he said, smiling reassuringly. "We know how delicate the situation is, and we'll be sure to follow your orders carefully."

Nasir's promise only reminded Morgan of everything riding upon her and her de facto command of their forces, adding to her nervousness, but she nodded and let the matter drop. Instead, she turned to their other guest, who outwardly appeared to be Beorc. Morgan immediately suspected that he was something more, given his familiar silvery-blue hair, tanned skin, and angular, chiseled face. "You're from Goldoa, aren't you?" Morgan guessed, noting the resemblance between the youthful-looking Laguz and Nasir.

"Prince Amr of Goldoa, at your service," the Laguz replied courteously, dipping into a polite bow. Surprised by Amr's title, Morgan looked to Kurth curiously.

Kurth smiled knowingly, understanding her confusion. "Amr is my nephew, and Nasir's great-grandson," he explained. "Dragon heritage can be unpredictable, at times. Neither of Amr's parents, nor _their_ parents, were white dragons."

Having seen both Nasir and Kurth in battle, Morgan had a fairly good idea of how much more powerful their fighting force had just become. However, it also renewed her doubts regarding sending foreign royals into battle against Crimea.

"Umm… King Goldoa?" Morgan began. "Are you sure this is wise? For you, Prince Amr, Prince Valent, and Emperor Yashiro to be fighting beside us, I mean," Morgan clarified. "Our hope is that Duke Vortimer and his followers will recognize us as another Crimean force. That seems less likely if they find members of foreign royal families standing and fighting beside us."

"You're right. If our identities become known, it will be harder to convince the Crimeans that Duke Cerdic and Lady Lunete are leading this force," Kurth conceded.

Morgan nodded silently.

"I discussed this matter already with Emperor Yashiro," Kurth continued. "He is confident that none of our enemies will recognize him in the heat of battle. It is highly unlikely that they would recognize Prince Valent or Prince Amr, either, for that matter. Few Beorc can discern one transformed Laguz from another."

"I guess," Morgan admitted reluctantly, for her true concerns laid more in their safety than the risk of them being recognized.

"I am not so fortunate," Kurth admitted, dipping his head apologetically. "I am the only known living black dragon Laguz, and few could fail to recognize me on sight. "Perhaps it would be best if I were to remain away from the coming battles."

It wasn't quite the concession Morgan had been hoping for, but she knew it was likely all she would get. "That's okay," she said quickly. "We'll manage. It won't be a very long campaign, anyways."

"That confident?" Nasir teased.

Morgan shrugged. "Pretty confident. But, win or lose, it'll be over fairly quickly," she reminded. "As long as we keep evacuating the Gallian civilians as we move south, even if we can't stop Duke Vortimer, their trail will end in a couple weeks when they reach the empty capital city. Maybe then they'd be willing to talk, but I hope it doesn't come to that."

"It won't," Valent proclaimed. "So, when do we start?"

"As soon as our messengers get back," Morgan promised. She set off towards the tent that served as a makeshift war room. "Come on. I'll show you what our plans look like so far."

* * *

Uncharacteristically, Vortimer was finding it harder and harder to maintain his composure. The grey-haired duke's confident expression had practically been frozen in place, and he wondered how much longer his feigned smile could hold.

Despite the fervent jealousy of the lowborn, the life of a nobleman was not easy at all, Vortimer thought grimly. It was an endless web, layers upon layers of deception, a game which few could comprehend, let alone find victory in.

A game he had grown quite good at, or so he had thought. But now, as he continued his march south through the peacefully empty Gallian countryside, Vortimer could sense that something wrong. It could not be a coincidence that they had not encountered a single Laguz. It could not be a coincidence that every village they came across was deserted. "Too many layers," Vortimer growled softly to himself, moving his lips as little as possible so as to preserve his noble image.

His brother's suggestion had seemed promising, but it had left him cornered. He could hardly order a retreat, not when they had yet to encounter their enemy at all. So they marched on, as he continued to squirm inside, praying that his fears were unfounded.

"Duke Vortimer!"

A young scout riding astride an old workhorse came trotting towards the duke and his most trusted bodyguards. "What is it?" Vortimer asked, forcing himself to sound calm and patient. "Another empty village?"

The scout shook his head vigorously. "No, not a village, sir. There are two Beorc waiting on the road ahead of us. Sir, they claim to be from Melior, and wish to speak to you personally."

"Beorc? From Melior?" Vortimer asked, trying futilely to hide his astonishment. He instinctively glanced south, and soon spotted the pair, who were too far and appeared as little more than dark blobs. "How in the goddess's name did they get here so quickly? And what do they want?" he muttered.

"It could be a trap," one of Vortimer's bodyguards interjected.

"With only two people, it would have to be a pretty good one," Vortimer observed, as he scanned the surrounding area for any sign of danger. There was a small copse nearby, large enough to hide two or three men, perhaps, but otherwise, as far as he could see, the region was clear. "Lad," he called, addressing the scout. "Go inform the others. We'll break here for half an hour, while my men and I meet with our unexpected guests."

"Yes, sir!" the scout saluted.

By now, Vortimer was resigned to the fact that his army's organization was poor, and he knew that it would be several minutes until they could grind to a complete halt. It had been impossibly frustrating during the first day of their march, but by now, the duke was used to the incompetence. As the roughly-structured formations began to collapse, Vortimer and his bodyguards advanced further south.

And when he was close enough for Duke Cerdic and Lady Lunete's features to be clearly visible, Vortimer's confident smile faded away, to be replaced by a concerned grimace.

* * *

"It's him," Cerdic whimpered softly.

"Of course it's him. We invited him out here," Lunete reminded gently. She raised her voice so that she could return Duke Vortimer's greeting. "Duke Vortimer!" she hailed respectfully. "We must speak with you!"

The pair watched as Vortimer exchanged a few words with his guards. Then, Vortimer's steed alone advanced, while his guards fanned out behind him, eyeing their surroundings carefully.

"Duke Cerdic. Lady Lunete," Vortimer greeted jovially, glancing deferentially at each of them in turn. "It has been far too long, though I had expected our next meeting to be in Melior. What brings you two so far from your homes?"

"What else but this?" Lunete asked, gesturing past Vortimer towards the Crimean army. "Your march cannot continue, Duke Vortimer," she stated flatly.

Cerdic winced at her blunt words, and averted his gaze. Vortimer ignored the other duke, and his expression grew hard. "My march can and must continue," Vortimer said coolly. "King Crimea must be avenged. Justice will be done."

"You have been misinformed. Just as Crimea had no part in the massacres in Gallia, Gallia had no part in the assassination of our king and princess," Lunete replied. "By the word of King Goldoa himself," she added, when it looked as if Vortimer was ready to argue.

"Does the truth belong to King Goldoa, to dictate as he pleases?" Vortimer asked sarcastically.

"You doubt the word of Tellius's oldest and wisest sovereign?" Lunete challenged.

"I doubt the neutrality of a _Laguz_ king, who I imagine would inevitably side with his own kind," Vortimer declared. "He has no place in this matter, which lies between Queen Gallia and the people of Crimea who she has so wronged. She will return to Melior with us and answer for her crimes there."

"Y-You… you have not the authority to do this!" Duke Cerdic protested, though his hesitation was obvious.

"Officially, you are right," Vortimer conceded simply. "But I call Crimea my country, and so, regardless of my title or standing, I have the moral authority… no…the moral _obligation_ , to do exactly this."

Behind Vortimer, the rest of his army had finally come to a complete stop, but several of his soldiers were now within earshot.

"This is treason," Lunete warned. "Your course will provoke war, and bring suffering upon thousands more."

"Then I, too, will answer for my alleged crimes beside Queen Gallia, when the time comes," Vortimer replied. "What of you two, then? Duke Cerdic, Lady Lunete, I know not how you came to be here, but you are here regardless. Will you stand by me?"

"I stand by Crimea, and only Crimea," Lunete declared. She raised one fist high into the air. Vortimer recoiled in shock as the noblewoman flung a small handful of powder to the ground.

"What!?" Vortimer gasped, as a glowing rift appeared and swallowed Lunete whole.

"Until we meet again," Cerdic said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Explain!" Vortimer demanded.

But Cerdic only mimicked Lunete's movements. He, too, disappeared, leaving Vortimer with even more doubts.

* * *

"Perfect," Morgan breathed, watching as the duke's soldiers milled around in confusion.

"I don't get it," Valent grumbled.

"Of course you don't get it," Severa said scornfully. "Now come on, let's get out of here."

"But we've just put them on their guard!" Valent protested loudly. "We could have gotten the jump on them just now!"

"They came here to fight a war, you dolt. They're already on their guard," Severa reminded, rolling her eyes in frustration.

"Then what's the point of all this?" Valent complained. "You tacticians are all about cunning ambushes, right? We could've attacked just now and captured the duke, and this war would've been over. My people have an old saying for situations like this: cut off the head of the snake, and the body dies with it."

"Given that I've heard that exact saying before, I highly doubt it's specifically a Laguz saying," Severa remarked wryly.

"Prince Valent, the proverbial head was cut off already when their king was murdered," Morgan tried to explain, ignoring her sister. "That hasn't stopped the Crimeans, or even slowed them. In fact, they're moving faster and more recklessly because of it."

Valent only stared at the younger woman blankly.

"If we kill or capture Duke Vortimer right now, it'll only make his people angrier," Morgan went on patiently. "He won his men over by appealing to their grief, and removing him from the board won't fix the damage he's already caused. We have to push his followers to second-guess themselves before we can convince them to listen to us."

"And showing them that their silly nobles are squabbling is supposed to help?" Valent asked dubiously.

"It is, because since the king's murder, Duke Vortimer is the only authority most of these soldiers have heard from," Morgan replied. "We sent Duke Cerdic and Lady Lunete to meet with him openly so that his followers will remember that Duke Vortimer doesn't necessarily represent the rest of their country's leadership, let alone the country as a whole. Now, they'll be more willing to believe that Duke Vortimer might be wrong."

Before Valent could speak again, the sound of nearby hoof beats reminded them that they were still dangerously close to the advancing Crimean army.

"Come on," Morgan urged. "Let's get out of here and start searching for an opening."

"Before they find us, out here and alone and standing in the middle of their entire army," Severa added sharply, when Valent looked ready to protest again. She and Morgan both collected their warp powder, then stared pointedly at the hawk prince.

With a helpless shrug and an expression of great distaste, Valent retrieved his own handful of warp powder and invoked it. Morgan and Severa followed suit a second later, leaving the small copse empty once again.

* * *

The Crimean army resumed their march after only a short break. They continued towards the south, pausing only to survey each of the villages along their course. To their surprise and growing unease, they found each of the small Gallian villages deserted.

The duke was beginning to suspect the truth. The Gallian villagers had obviously been forewarned of the Crimean incursion, and given their consistent and thorough retreat, it was quite obvious that someone was moving just ahead of his force, meticulously coordinating a full evacuation. Still, the duke had little choice but to redouble his march in hopes of reaching the capital before his rivals, continuing their trek through the Gallian plains until late that night when his followers were simply too tired to go on.

Too tired, in fact, to notice a pair of eyes peering out at them from the edge of the nearby forests, studying their formations carefully. When at last she felt as if she had seen enough, Iris transformed and flew off into the night, silhouetted against the weaving strands of golden light dancing across the northern sky. The few sentries who noticed her flight paid her little attention, thinking her nothing more than a common fruit bat.

Iris continued to fly east, traveling nearly a quarter of a mile further before she descended upon a small woodland hill, where she found Morgan waiting patiently. Cordelia and Severa were waiting by Morgan's side, while Soren stood a short distance way, leaning against a nearby tree. Valent and his four hawk Laguz friends were pacing about, as was Lirian, a young, lithe blonde who had accompanied Lady Lunete as her bodyguard. Everyone turned eagerly towards Iris as she approached and shifted back into her human shape.

"You were right, Morgan," Iris reported. "They're camped out along the riverbank, just south of that bridge you pointed out earlier."

Though Morgan had been fairly certain in her prediction, Iris's confirmation still flooded her with relief. Knowing how important it was to appear confident in front of her forces, Morgan hid her relief as she spoke. "Good. What about their supplies?" she asked. "Did they leave their carts towards the back of their formations?"

"Sort of," Iris answered. "They left the supply carts even further back, north of the bridge where they tethered their horses and oxen along the western riverbank. A bunch of soldiers are waiting there, too, keeping watch over their supplies."

It came as a bit of a surprise that the Crimean army had left their provisions so lightly defended, but Morgan considered their unexpected blessing carefully, knowing that they had to make the most of each advantage they could find. "Do you know how many soldiers there are?" she asked.

"Watching over the supplies? Umm… maybe thirty?" Iris estimated hesitantly.

"Only thirty?" Morgan mused quietly. "I suppose that makes our raid a bit easier. What about the duke? Do you know where he is?"

"I think he's up at the front of the army," Iris guessed. "The larger tents are all grouped up towards the south, and there's a lot of sentries down there, too."

"But you did not actually see the duke, did you?" Soren interrupted sharply.

Iris shook her head, looking crestfallen.

"It's okay," Morgan reassured her quickly. "He should be where his sentries are, and if he isn't, we'll have an even easier time getting to him."

"They're making this quite easy for us," Soren remarked. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were setting a trap."

" _Could_ it be a trap?" Cordelia asked cautiously.

"Not likely," Morgan answered, unconcerned. "They don't have Pegasi or any other means of flying, so they can't really pursue us. Even if the duke is expecting us to attack, he's left his forces vulnerable. We'll have more than enough time to slow his march and fly to safety."

"So, then it's time to hunt," Valent concluded hopefully, flashing her a toothy grin.

"It's time," Morgan nodded, signaling to Valent's four friends.

One of the four hawks promptly transformed and shot up into the sky, soaring to the southwest. Two more approached a nearby tree. Below the tree sat two Crimean soldiers, stripped to their undergarments, gagged, and tightly bound. "The sooner this is over with, the sooner you two can go free, so don't give us any grief, alright?" one of the Laguz said cheerfully.

Unable to answer, the captive soldiers only whimpered softly as the two hawk Laguz transformed and seized them. They, too, launched themselves into the sky, though they flew to the east instead.

"That just leave us," the last of the four announced, stepping towards Soren. "Come on, Mage." He transformed quickly and bent down so that Soren could climb astride his back.

Morgan glanced at Soren apologetically as the latter gingerly climbed atop the hawk Laguz. She needn't had worried; far from being dismayed, the older tactician was quite content with his role in the impending battle. "Remember, if you see our signal, do not return to the camp or try to find us. We'll get ourselves away to safety," he reminded Morgan. "And don't go catching any more bolts while I'm gone," he added sternly.

"I won't," Morgan promised, watching as Soren and his Laguz mount set off towards the east, trailing the two Laguz bearing the Crimean prisoners.

Once they were out of sight, the rest of the strike force set out. Cordelia immediately took point, while Morgan and her sister followed closely, flanked by Iris on the right and Valent and Lirian on the left. Silently, they soared west, closing in on the river and the unsuspecting Crimean sentries.

* * *

The Crimean soldiers and mercenaries were far from comfortable with their surroundings. Rest did not come easily to any of them, for they knew they were deep in enemy territory. Even among those who should have been sleeping, there were many who remained wide awake, staring into the darkness, praying that if any attack were to come, they would see it coming.

But none of them bothered to look up, so when Valent abruptly dove into their midst, their surprise was complete. The mighty hawk descended upon one of the sentries in a flurry of feathers, seizing the armored man and hurling him into a nearby tent.

As the hawk prince struck the first blows, Lirian slid neatly from his back, coming face to face with a second sentry. The sentry, a mercenary clad in ragged leather armor, gaped at the young blonde in surprise; Lirian's traveling outfit bore a simple design, but was elegantly tailored and blatantly out of place on a battlefield.

Lirian grinned as she drew a fine dagger from her silken sash, ready to take full advantage of the mercenary's confused stupor. The mercenary's shield arm had slackened, and before he could react, the silver dagger spun through the air and embedded itself in his chest.

The commotion had quickly drawn the attention of four more sentries, but Valent quickly swept two of them away with a powerful tackle, turning in mid-air to claw at the second man's heavier armor. The powerful hawk prince lifted the armored Crimean knight into the air, flinging him at one of the two sentries who remained standing. The other closed in upon Lirian, jabbing wildly with his lance. Lirian sidestepped the thrust easily and drew second dagger, plunging it neatly into the seam beneath the soldier's left pauldron.

"You aren't half bad at this," Valent remarked, his voice slightly distorted in his transformed state. "I figured you for a mage, at first. Beorc warriors usually prefer to wear armor of some sort, don't they?"

"I'm no warrior. I'm a bodyguard, tasked with accompanying my lady wherever she goes," Lirian said with a modest shrug. "Armor isn't really an option for me. That sort of wear is hardly appropriate for social functions, after all."

"That sort of wear is never appropriate, if you ask me," Valent grunted approvingly, turning to face several more Crimean sentries as they approached.

"It does seem that way, doesn't it? After all, what good has their armor done them against my daggers or your talons?" Lirian added slyly as she retrieved her daggers.

Eight soldiers closed in upon the pair. Moments later, three of them laid prone, and the rest retreated hastily, two of them clutching at fresh wounds.

Valent prepared to pursue, but Lirian agilely climbed onto his back, wrapping her arm gingerly around his neck. "In, then back out," she reminded gently, taking care to speak loud enough so that the Laguz could hear her over the battle.

Remembering their instructions well, Valent launched himself into the air once more, taking care to avoid flying against the moon so that they could simply melt back into the darkness.

* * *

As soon as the fighting broke out, the four sentries standing by the eastern carts drew their weapons nervously. Hesitant to leave the supplies unguarded, none of them dared to move, and instead only exchanged questioning glances.

An explosion of light erupted at their feet, throwing two of them aside and blinding the other two. Severa dropped into their midst, and was little more than a dark blur as she struck them down as well.

"Hey!"

The lancer turned to see another pair of angry sentries storming her way. She fumbled for a javelin, but before she could throw it, Iris sent another burst of light at them, knocking them out.

"Nice one," Severa commented offhandedly. She ignored the numerous dark shapes flickering throughout the camp and strolled to Catria's side, as the Pegasus and her lone remaining rider approached one of the carts. "This one, Morgan?"

Morgan eyed the supply cart calculatingly, measuring how far the flames would spread. She finally nodded just as Severa's patience was wearing thin. "It'll destroy a couple more carts than I wanted, but it'll do," she declared, drawing her fire tome.

But the image of sapphire flames blossoming from her sword crossed her mind, and she stopped. On impulse, the young tactician lowered her tome and drew her sword instead. "Hey, Severa. Watch this," she called, pointing Eternity at the cart.

Her sister, distracted by another approaching Crimean soldier, wasn't impressed. "Just hurry!" Severa cried, leaping forward to contend with sword-wielding foot soldier.

Morgan shrugged, and obediently, she closed her eyes. She pictured the swirling, immolating flames she had conjured against Extinction, willing them to gush forth once more.

But there was no answering call. Not the familiar tingle of magical energy surging through her and her sword, nor the crackling of conjured flames.

Then she heard rapid footsteps as more soldiers stormed towards them.

"Morgan!" Severa shrieked, retreating several steps as the Crimean reinforcements pressed in, threatening to overwhelm her.


	6. Chapter 3

**~ Chapter 3 ~**

To his intense displeasure, Vortimer found himself rudely roused from his sleep by the distant cries of his men. He pulled himself from his bedroll with a frustrated groan, then paused to glower at it distastefully. The soft, thick padding was of far better quality than anything available to the rest of his army, but the duke still found it too rough and uncouth for his liking.

It was only several seconds later that he remembered _why_ he had awoken, and with a low growl, he turned his attention away from the wretched accommodations and stormed from his disproportionately large tent.

Outside, he found that only one of his two sentries remained beside the tent entrance. The other stood a short distance away, peering nervously to the north.

Vortimer rounded upon the closer of the two sentries. "You there, what's going on?" he demanded fiercely. Though he knew that the young peasant-turned-soldier could hardly be blamed for whatever was happening, he couldn't quite keep his voice steady, and his anger and frustration must have shone through.

The intimidated soldier quailed and sputtered incoherently, unsure of how to deflect the duke's obvious ire when he himself knew nothing. He was only spared further embarrassment by the arrival of his captain, an older war veteran formerly of the Crimean Royal Knights.

"Duke Vortimer, our supply carts are under attack!" the captain announced, rushing to the duke's side.

"Targeting our supplies?" Vortimer mused, calming slightly now that the battle he had been hungering for was upon them. "Are they afraid to face us openly, then? I never imagined the Laguz would be so… spineless."

The old veteran flinched. He had known many Laguz throughout his long career, and knew almost certainly that the duke's guess was off the mark. Few of Gallia's residents would willingly back down from _any_ challenge. If anything, it was uncharacteristic of the Laguz to allow them to push so far into Gallia uncontested, and just as uncharacteristic for them to target lightly-defended supply carts in the dead of night.

But he knew better than to offer unsolicited advice to his commanding officer. "What are your orders, sir?" he asked, maintaining his composure.

"Must you ask?" Vortimer said with exasperation. "Send your men down there at once. If we lose our supplies here, our march will be slowed by at least half as we forage for provisions."

The duke's orders weren't as explicit as the orders the Crimean captain was accustomed to receiving, but truthfully, the grizzled old veteran didn't much mind. "All the better," he mumbled quietly, glad that their politician leader apparently understood that he was out of his depth on a battlefield.

The Crimean captain then turned to the soldiers who had begun gathering around him. Less than a minute later, several messengers fanned out throughout the camp, seeking the other field commanders and trying to restore some semblance of order. Most of the remaining soldiers began making their way north towards the supply caravans.

The last handful remained close by, defending their captain and the duke. When Vortimer understood why several of his soldiers were idling around, his expression soured, but before he could challenge the captain's decision, panicked cries from the west vindicated the old veteran's instincts.

* * *

For a time, the western border of the encampment remained almost perfectly silent. The curious sentries paid little attention to their own surroundings as chaos unfolded to the north of them. Some of them hoped to join the battle before the night was out, while others feared precisely the same thing.

None of them were willing to act without further orders.

Then the battle found them, too, and at the first sound of conflict, many wished they had left their post sooner. Many others began to regret leaving their homes in the first place.

A cloud of caustic white mist descended upon the unsuspecting soldiers with a turbulent, rushing noise, eliciting shrill cries of agony. Two mighty white dragons followed their deadly breath attacks, landing in the midst of their enemies. The Crimean soldiers fortunate enough to be standing nowhere near the landing site could only stare at the splendorous dragon Laguz, slack-jawed.

Nasir and Amr swiveled their reptilian heads gracefully, basking in the shimmering glow of the illuminated night sky above them. Despite the tinted lighting, their scales shone pearly-white like the mist swirling around them. Amr, the smaller of the two dragons, was the first to strike, breathing forth another stream of white mist at a pair of approaching Crimean battle mages. The two casters dove for cover, narrowly avoiding the cloud as they cowered behind a rocky outcrop.

After a long life plagued by more conflicts than he would have liked, Nasir felt less pressure to act right away, knowing that most of the Crimean soldiers would be too terrified to pose a threat. Instead, he inspected the disoriented Crimean lines carefully, and finally homed in on a cluster of archers. The ground shook as Nasir strode in their direction, and the nearby foot soldiers capable of fleeing did so, tripping over one another in their haste to be away from their inexorable foe.

One archer stood his ground defiantly, firing futilely at the approaching white dragon until the white mist enveloped him, stinging him all over and leaving him lying limp. The rest bolted, with some of them even abandoning their weapons to do so.

So a moment later, when massive fireballs erupted in their midst, none of the archers remained ready to retaliate. The magical heat quickly dried the moist grass before setting it ablaze and forming impassable, fiery walls. Several tents caught fire, even as their occupants were just beginning to realize they were under attack.

"Mage!" one soldier cried, for he had seen the burning pellet emerge from beneath the boughs of a nearby forest copse. A pair of his companions had kept their wits about them, too, and the three charged blindly into the trees, catching a brief glimpse of the slender, violet-haired caster with his elegantly-bound tome.

Only a glimpse, for Yashiro had not been left undefended. Before any of the three soldiers could begin to close in on their target, the bushes around them parted, and Lucina, Owain, and Felicia leapt out to meet them.

"Sleep well, and may a better future greet you when you awaken," Owain said gravely, though none of the three soldiers were conscious enough to understand him.

Lucina was less interested in the fallen soldiers, and continued to eye the hectic battlefield. Nasir and Amr still had a free reign upon the battlefield, with the soldiers desperately moving to stay clear of the deadly dragons, but some semblance of organization was coming over them. "It's time to go," she declared.

"Already?" Felicia frowned. "We can leave pretty much any time we want."

"And we want that to be before they start filling this little copse with arrows," Lucina replied firmly. A short distance away, the archers Nasir had scattered were beginning to organize once more. It looked as if reinforcements from the main encampment were beginning to arrive, too.

"What about Nasir and Prince Amr? Shouldn't we wait until they've left?" Owain asked worriedly.

Owain had timed his question perfectly. Amr, recognizing that he was at his limits, abruptly invoked his warp powder. To the confused and distracted soldiers, it appeared as if their insurmountable foe had simply disappeared into thin air. Nasir followed suit a split second later, and though no sign of their attackers remained, none of the Crimeans even seemed to realize they were no longer under attack, and continued running around in a blind panic.

"Well, that's that," Yashiro said serenely, reaching for his warp powder. "I hope it was enough."

Lucina looked to the north, to the supply carts lining the distant riverbank. No flames could be seen, and they were too far for her to make out any signs of battle amidst the distant caravan. "It will be enough," she said anyway, in a bracing tone.

* * *

Flying above the supply caravan, Cordelia bit her lip nervously. Her keen eyes spotted a dark blur, which she knew to be Valent, soaring away from the camp. The Crimean supplies should have been in flames by now, drawing more attention from the main encampment and covering their escape, but they appeared perfectly intact without even the faintest hint of smoke.

"Trouble," she whispered uneasily. Her first instinct was to fly to her daughters' side and join the battle beside them, but she dismissed that thought almost immediately. They had approached the caravan knowing that they would be too outnumbered for a direct battle. It wasn't another lance that Severa and Morgan needed, but more time.

Cordelia glanced to the southern encampment. As Morgan and Soren had predicted, a disorganized mob of Crimean soldiers was steadily making its way towards the caravan. Upon seeing the pending reinforcements, the Pegasus rider lifted her own tome and fired a small streak of lightning high into the sky. She knew the signal was a bit premature and that she had risked giving her position away, but she wasn't about to wait any longer.

With her appointed task finished, she urged her Pegasus downwards, advancing upon the caravan instead of retreating as she had been instructed. She scanned the area carefully, smiling slightly and taking heart from the many cries of panic and confusion. Then she found what she had been searching for, and her smile broadened.

* * *

As soon as she heard her sister cry out, Morgan tossed her sword aside, reaching for one of her tomes instead. She abandoned her task instinctively, and sent a jet of flames soaring over Severa's left shoulder. The scorching wave caught a Crimean mercenary fully in the face and sent him tumbling away, howling painfully.

With one of her two immediate opponents temporarily incapacitated, Severa was quick to direct her attention to the other. She thrust her lance lightly at her remaining foe, aiming far to the soldier's left side. The startled soldier reacted quickly, adjusting his buckler accordingly and readying his own lance for a counterattack.

But Severa proved to be even faster, reversing her grip on Passion and spinning it the other way instead, jabbing the end of her lance's shaft into her opponent's chest. She had no chance of piercing the man's chain armor with the blunt end of her weapon, but the heavy blow stole his breath away for a second, long enough for Severa to bring her lance high into the air and smash it down into her opponent's helmeted brow. The soldier keeled over a moment later, dazed.

And was promptly swept aside as three of his comrades took his place.

"Look out!" Morgan cried.

Another burst of flames shot past Severa, blasting another soldier away. Then Iris joined the fray, striking down a second soldier from above in a blinding flash of light. Both were quickly replaced, and as soon as her vision cleared, Severa saw nearly a dozen more soldiers heading there way, as well as a flash of lightning far above them.

"Forget the soldiers! Just hurry!" Severa pleaded with her sister desperately, as she rushed forward and into a sloppier, more aggressive attack routine. It was a reckless gambit, but her opponent, a young Crimean peasant who only barely knew how to wield his spear, crumbled before the sudden aggression.

"Right," Morgan acknowledged hastily. She, too, had seen their mother's signal, and knew that it meant reinforcements from the main encampment were about to arrive. She turned back to the supply carts and brandished her tome. The ravenous flames quickly took hold of the wooden crates and their dried contents, and plumes of smoke began drifting upward lazily.

Satisfied, Morgan retrieved and sheathed Eternity, then began to ponder their predicament. Finding an opening to escape with warp powder would not be easy, especially accompanied with a Pegasus. Disengaging from such an overwhelming mob of soldiers seemed equally impractical. "Push them back!" she finally ordered, hoping that between the three of them, they could clear enough distance for her and Severa to climb astride Catria and fly away.

But a better opportunity then presented itself, as hoof beats began thundering loudly on the soft, grassy plains. At first, only Iris noticed the commotion, her sensitive hearing picking up the distant sound even over the clamor of battle. Then the earth itself seemed to tremble lightly, and all the combatants paused, looking for the source.

"Look out!"

"The horses!"

A herd of warhorses burst into view, stampeding away from where they had been tethered. As they reached the center of the caravan and approached the fire, they scattered every which way, trampling several unfortunate soldiers as they fled.

Beset by waves of heat from their burning provisions and their own panicked steeds, the soldiers had had their fill of battle, and they, too, began to scatter, searching for some escape.

Morgan agilely pulled herself onto Catria's back, and moved to Severa's side. "Hurry!" she urged.

One brave mercenary advanced, hoping to stop their escape on his own. Severa simply dropped to one knee and sent Passion into a wide arc, slamming it into the mercenary's shins and tripping him to the ground. She then leapt back to her feet and grasped Morgan's hand, swiftly climbing up behind her sister.

They met no further resistance as they soared away from the caravan, though Cordelia found her way to their side as soon as they took to the skies. None of the Crimeans seemed to notice the abnormally large bat and the two Pegasi as they drifted off into the night.

* * *

Vortimer's frustration mounted as they saw the signs of battle in the west. "What is the goddess's name is going on here?" he growled in frustration.

His weary captain remained silent, for he knew little more than the duke did. Instead, it was one of the nearby foot soldiers who replied. "I believe we're under attack, sir," the dark-haired youth answered nonchalantly.

Vortimer's face purpled and he glared unappreciatively at the wisecracking soldier, who seemed remarkably nonplussed.

"Enough of that," the captain interrupted quickly. "Look – smoke and fire. This doesn't look to be the work of Laguz."

"Cerdic, then. Or maybe that conniving Lunete," Vortimer guessed.

Another nearby soldier, female and about the same age as most of the conscripted villagers, looked at the duke oddly. "Duke Vortimer, you don't truly believe that one of Crimea's esteemed nobles would act so rashly without the approval of the senate, do you?" she asked, surprised.

The irony in her words was not lost upon the Crimean captain, who flinched at the cruel reminder that their actions, too, could possibly be against the wishes of the Crimean Senate.

But the implications didn't seem to concern the duke. "The senate could never have acted so quickly," Vortimer said dismissively. "No matter. When we return victorious, the senate will learn of our treacherous countrymen."

"Captain, the cries are getting louder," another soldier interrupted worriedly. "Shouldn't we go help them?"

"If the Laguz are attacking us from all sides, we should be careful not to overcommit," the female soldier disagreed. "Or perhaps we should send some support to the southern end of the camp. If the Laguz fight past our sentries there, they'll be upon us in minutes."

Her reasoning was sound, but as her captain prepared to give the orders, he found himself reconsidering their situation more carefully. Only a dozen of his soldiers remained at his side, as most of his men had marched north to join the battle at the supply caravan, and a handful had already been sent to investigate the commotion in the west. The rest of the camp was beginning to stir, but it would be some time before they were ready to join the fighting. "Good thinking," he said, turning back to face the young woman. "But we don't have the numbers for that right now."

The duke disagreed, for the notion that the Laguz could reach him personally left him thoroughly unnerved. "Captain, we can't allow the Laguz to take this camp," he said sternly. "You and your men are standing here idly, are you not?"

"We are not standing here idly, sir," the captain said stiffly. "We're here to protect you. You have not had the opportunity to arm yourself, and even should you do so now, your steed remains penned near the supply caravan."

"We can protect the duke by keeping the Laguz away from him," the dark-haired youth from before interrupted. "I can look after him myself, sir. We'll move further into the encampment, closer to the rest of our men, while you ensure that the southern border remains secure."

The captain began shaking his head, but before he could disagree, Vortimer spoke up. "You show good sense, lad. Better than your captain, at least," he quipped. He gestured towards a handful of his soldiers. "You six. Get down to the southern border and check on the sentries. If there's any trouble, send someone back here to warn us," he ordered.

"Wait!" their captain protested, unable to shake the foreboding feeling that had suddenly come over him. A couple of the soldiers glanced back at him, but they were unwilling to disobey their duke, and marched away into the darkness. He turned back to Vortimer helplessly. "Something's not right here," he insisted. "Why would our enemies attack us from the west? The eastern and southern edges of our camp aren't extended as far, and would have been more vulnerable."

"They're Laguz. They're obviously striking at whatever target is closest," Vortimer reasoned.

"Then why would they have divided their forces to attack us from the north, too?" the captain challenged.

To the duke's credit, he paused to consider his subordinate's words more carefully. "Perhaps they're hoping that we'll cower here, watching for trouble on our flanks as our supplies burn, or as their Beorc allies escape," Vortimer reasoned.

"Maybe. They may also be hoping for us to divide our forces and leave our main encampment vulnerable," the captain guessed, thinking furiously.

The soldier who had volunteered to escort the duke to safety suddenly looked nervous. "What if they're trying to strike at the duke himself?" he suggested, his tone laced with fear. "We have to get the duke to safety!"

The soldier's reasoning was sound, but there was something in his voice that the captain did not like. The captain narrowed his eyes at the soldier suspiciously. The youth was tall, and though he was quite lean, he was sturdily built, quite normal among the many conscripted young farmers. A pair of sickles hung from the youth's belt. That, too, seemed perfectly normal, given the scarcity of proper weapons in Arbor. Upon closer inspection, though, the matching weapons seemed to be of far better quality than everyday farming implements.

He then glanced uneasily as his remaining soldiers, his gaze settling upon the female soldier who had spoken up earlier. He hadn't noticed it at the time, but her words had been carefully chosen and cleanly articulated, without even a hint of a country accent. She didn't look like a noble, especially with her poor-fitting, standard issue armor and her black hair bound into a simple and utilitarian ponytail, nor did she resemble a typical commoner. For the first time, the captain took note of her weapon, a fine, curved scimitar of polished black metal.

The young woman sighed, shooting the young soldier with the sickles an exasperated look. "I told you, patience!" she scolded gently, drawing her sword as the suspicious captain reached for his axe.

"I _was_ being patient," the other soldier grumbled, drawing both of his sickles in a casual, fluid motion.

"W-What is the meaning of this!?" Vortimer demanded, his eyes going wide with fear.

Ignoring his question, the two siblings burst into action. Harmony rushed towards the captain, leading with her scimitar. The old veteran hadn't been caught off-guard, and swept his axe upwards into a defensive posture, but the cumbersome weapon was of little concern to the former assassin. Instead, Harmony shuffled to the side and gracefully slipped her blade past the overextended axe, slicing into her opponent's thigh.

A short distance away, Symphony roughly shoved the duke to the ground. One of the soldiers leapt forward to face him, brandishing a shoddy iron sickle. In answer, Symphony brought both of his weapons inward, crossing their shafts, then stepped forward and spun both of them outward. The impact proved too much for the Crimean peasant's improvised weapon, which shattered outright.

The other soldiers began to advance upon Harmony, hoping to aid their wounded captain, but Symphony was quick to intercept those nearest to him, striking them down one after another as they tried to weave their way around his deadly sickles. Those who reached Harmony uncontested were quickly isolated when their cunning adversary danced around them carefully, always keeping at least one foe between her and her remaining opponents. One by one, they joined their captain in lying uselessly on the ground, their cries for help going unheard.

Amidst the confusion, Vortimer tried to slip away, hoping that he could escape unnoticed. His fumbling movements were glaringly obvious, though, and as soon as his last opponent fell, Symphony leapt towards the duke, looping one sickle around the duke's ankle. "Not so fast," he warned, tugging Vortimer to the ground.

"Quickly!" Harmony urged, as she saw other soldiers making their way over towards them, no doubt to see to the safety of their duke.

"Yeah, I know," Symphony said absently, sheathing one sickle and retrieving his warp powder. "Hey, Vortimer, do us both a favor and come along quietly, alright?" he addressed his prisoner cheerfully.

"Unhand me, you traitorous, worthless peasant!" Vortimer barked.

"Harmony, do you remember if Morgan wanted the duke, or just his head?" Symphony asked his sister conversationally.

"I _think_ she said she wanted him in one piece," Harmony said thoughtfully. "But if he won't quit struggling, Morgan will just have to settle for whatever we can get."

Vortimer blanched. "You wouldn't dare," he whispered hoarsely. But he offered no further resistance as Symphony invoked a large handful of warp powder, and tugged him through the magical rift. When the rest of Vortimer's soldiers finally arrived in front of their duke's tent, only their downed comrades remained.

Even with their supplies in shambles, their forces battered, and no apparent sign of their leader or enemies, many of Vortimer's soldiers did not understand at first that the battle was over. It took the scattered Crimean forces over an hour to regroup, and even then, many did not quite comprehend what had happened. The lost and leaderless soldiers spent the bulk of the night huddled together in the central camp, fearfully awaiting another attack without realizing that the victorious raiders were slumbering peacefully in their concealed camp less than a mile away.

* * *

Late the following morning, Lucina awoke to find most of the camp still peacefully asleep. The hawk Laguz were awake, and waved at her lazily as she passed by, but there was no sign of anyone else.

She made her way across the camp to the conference tent, and when she stepped inside, she found only two people within. Morgan was perched upon a small wooden stool, resting her head atop a stack of parchment with her eyes closed. Duke Cerdic was pacing back and forth nervously, and looked up, surprised, when he heard Lucina entering.

"Good morning," Cerdic greeted politely.

"Good morning," Lucina replied automatically, though her eyes were fixed on Morgan. She shifted guiltily; as tired as she had been the night before, she had gone straight to sleep without checking in on Morgan first. Cordelia and Severa had evidently done the same. "Please tell me she hasn't been here all night," she pleaded with Cerdic, though she already knew the answer.

"I do not know," Cerdic apologized. "I only arrived about half an hour ago. I was hoping to check what our plans for today were, but…" he gestured helplessly towards Morgan. As he spoke, Soren pushed his way through the tent flap behind him.

"We told you our plans yesterday," Soren reminded. "Later today, you and Lunete will address the Crimean army and urge them to return home. It doesn't matter whether they listen, really. Without their leader and with nearly half of their supplies ruined, their march no longer poses a significant threat. This war is over, as far as we're concerned."

"But Crimea…" Cerdic began.

"Is _your_ concern, not ours," Soren said, cutting him off. He glanced at Morgan, who remained soundly asleep.

Lucina, noticing Soren's frown, hastened to explain. "Don't worry. She does this all the time," she said, though she wasn't entirely sure whether Soren was expressing concern or disapproval. With a shrug, she knelt down at Morgan's side and gave her a soft nudge.

Morgan stirred, and looked up at the princess blearily. "Lucina? What are you doing up so early?"

"Early? It's nearly noon," Lucina corrected. She couldn't help but smile when Morgan scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping over her seat in the process. "Don't worry," the princess added quickly. "Everyone else is still sleeping. Well, almost everyone. The hawks are all up, and I think Lady Lunete's bodyguard is watching our prisoner."

"Oh, okay," Morgan said, relieved.

"Is something wrong, Morgan?" Soren asked in a surprisingly gentle tone.

"No, not really," Morgan answered. "I was just going over our plans to see if there's any way we could speed things along. Sending the Crimean army home, you know, stuff like that."

"Why bother?" Soren said, sounding bored. "We saw firsthand how efficient their senate is."

"We make our decisions carefully," Cerdic said stiffly.

"So carefully that they are no longer relevant by the time they are made," Soren countered dismissively.

"But we can't wait that long," Morgan protested. "Gallia may need our help soon, and we still haven't found a way to track down the Redeemers."

"Then we can go to Gallia's aid. Or we could search for the Redeemers, if you know where to begin," Soren shrugged. "There's no need for us to meddle any further in Crimea's affairs."

"You're leaving us to clean up this mess? By ourselves?" Cerdic asked indignantly.

"Given that it is _your_ country's mess, why not?" Soren replied coolly. "We've already helped you through the worst of it, leaving you and Lunete in an effective political position. Is that not enough?"

"Our position is hardly as comfortable as you seem to think," Cerdic whined.

"I said _effective,_ not comfortable," Soren said wryly. "If you are seeking comfort, you may wish to reconsider your aspirations."

Cerdic fell silent, though he remained clearly unhappy. Morgan, too, looked unconvinced, and Soren thought he knew why.

"There's no hurry," Soren interrupted, speaking up before Morgan could argue. "We can talk about this later. You should get some rest, Morgan."

"I'm fine," Morgan said immediately, in a slightly petulant tone.

Soren had expected as much, and had even been counting on it. "Suit yourself. I'm going to go get breakfast. You're welcome to join me if you'd like," he said with a shrug.

Morgan gave him an odd look, but Soren ignored her and turned to leave. "Sure," Morgan agreed hastily.

* * *

Morgan wasn't the least bit surprised when Soren's course took them nowhere near their provisions, but instead to an isolated corner of the camp, a small cliff that looked out over the river. The Crimean army remained by the riverside, but were far enough that the individual soldiers appeared as little more than tiny specks.

"You aren't really hungry, are you?" Morgan asked rhetorically.

"Are you? We could go back and find some food if you are," Soren offered.

Morgan shook her head. "What's this about?" she asked, understanding that Soren had simply wanted to speak to her alone.

"You believe Lunete would make a better ruler for Crimea than Cerdic," Soren stated flatly.

"Well… yes," Morgan admitted. "Why? Do you really think Duke Cerdic would make a better king?"

"Hardly," Soren scoffed. "He's a sniveling craven who lacks the conviction to lead someone away from a burning building, let alone bring his country back from the brink of civil war."

"That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" Morgan asked, though a smile tugged at her lips.

"Harsh, but true. Cerdic would be an ineffective leader, at best," Soren said.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Morgan admitted. "Duke Cerdic will try to claim the throne anyways, won't he? He's older than Lady Lunete, too, and probably has more friends among the senate than she does, too."

"I think you're underestimating Lunete," Soren cautioned. "She may seem friendly and unassuming, but that does not make her a fool. The truth is quite the opposite. Consider her bodyguard, Lirian."

Morgan did as he bade, and reflected upon Lirian's appearance and demeanor carefully. "Not just a bodyguard, but an assassin," she reasoned, after a moment's thought. "Her movements are subtle, efficient, and graceful, much like Harmony's, and her chosen weapons are inconspicuous and easily concealed."

"Cerdic's bodyguards haven't strayed more than thirty feet from his side since we left Crimea," Soren said. "But Lunete understood that there was little that a conventional bodyguard could do for her out here. She chose Lirian instead, whose talents are far more suited to our purposes, and who further outlines the difference between her and Cerdic."

"Do you think Lirian is dangerous to us?" Morgan asked, though she sounded doubtful of that possibility.

"Of course not. Lunete cannot afford to alienate Goldoa or Phoenicis right now," Soren said dismissively. "But it does show that Lunete is capable of planning ahead. She sided with us, knowing that we would involve ourselves in the Crimea-Gallia dispute one way or another. She chose a retainer appropriate for our mission. She must have realized, too, that we would likely not stay to see Crimea's situation fully resolved."

"Do you think she expected to leave them to sort this out themselves?" Morgan asked.

"She does happen to have an assassin at her side, just in case, doesn't she?" Soren asked wryly. "Cerdic has nothing to fear," he added quickly, when he saw Morgan's shocked expression. "Lunete has little to gain from Cerdic's death. He is easily cowed, and thus easily manipulated. Bargaining with him would be easier and cleaner than eliminating him."

"And if it wasn't? Do you really think Lunete would do something like that?" Morgan demanded.

Soren heaved a deep sigh. "Let me ask you a question, Morgan. Who do you trust more, Lunete, or your friend, Lucina?"

"What kind of question is that?" Morgan asked indignantly. "That's not a fair comparison at all! I've known Lucina for as long as I can remember."

"Of course, but with Lucina, it's about more than just friendship, isn't it?" Soren pressed. "She's loyal to her friends, so loyal, in fact, that she traveled across the world with your sister to find you. She's courageous, too, almost to a fault. Remember when we planned last night's battle?"

"Sure. She was upset when I told her we wanted her to stand guard here in our camp," Morgan recalled. Her expression grew sheepish. "Sorry for switching you two at the last minute," she added apologetically.

Soren brushed her apology aside. "I don't mind being withdrawn from a battle. I've seen more than enough fighting over the years," he assured. "But what I'm trying to say is, every time you needed Lucina's help, she was there. Every time _she_ thought you needed her, she was there, too. Would you say the same for Lunete?"

"That's different. We haven't known Lunete for very long," Morgan stalled.

"So what? From what I know of her, Lucina would be just as eager to help someone she hasn't known as long, like one of the friends she's met here," Soren challenged. "Just like you. When Nasir was wounded, you ran to his aid, without even the slightest concern for your own safety. You didn't hesitate to charge headlong into battle against Extinction, either."

"But you can't expect that of Lady Lunete. She's a noble, not a warrior," Morgan reminded.

"Lucina is both, isn't she?" Soren said mildly. "But you are right. Lunete is not a warrior. She's a politician, and a clever and charismatic one, at that. Her battles aren't typically fought with blades and magic, but through posturing. Lirian's presence alone may be invaluable if Lunete seeks to negotiate with Cerdic. Still, I suspect she would not hesitate in ordering Lirian to strike, if she was absolutely certain that she would gain more from that course than any other."

Morgan mulled over the older tactician's appraisal thoughtfully. "Maybe," she finally conceded in a cautious tone. "But politicians don't have to be heartless and ruthless. I think you're being a bit too cynical, Soren."

"You're probably right," Soren readily agreed. "But either way, we're not leaving her entirely unprepared for the challenges ahead of her, and there are other troubles demanding our attention."

"Yeah, okay," Morgan surrendered. "I guess you're right. We'll just have to trust in her to take care of herself and Crimea."

"Good. Now, tell me, what else is troubling you?" Soren asked.

Morgan shot him a blank stare.

"The plans you fell asleep over were for our last battle. Whatever it was that kept you up last night has nothing to do with Lunete or Cerdic," Soren guessed.

"Oh. I was trying to fix my sword," Morgan said, looking crestfallen. She drew Eternity from its sheath and held it up high, allowing the sun to glint off of the blade.

"It doesn't look broken to me," Soren said skeptically. "What's wrong with it?"

"I'm not sure," Morgan answered. "But during our battle with Extinction, I could light it on fire, remember? Last night, I tried to do the same thing, but nothing happened. I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with it. I think I may have used up all of its magic."

"You tried to use it to set the supply carts aflame?" Soren asked incredulously.

Morgan nodded numbly, and to her shock and dismay, Soren only shook his head, smiling faintly. "It's not funny!" she complained.

"Your sword wasn't just on fire, Morgan. It was wreathed in _blue_ flames," Soren said.

"So what?"

"Have you ever wondered where Azure Pyre's name originated?" Soren asked in a seemingly abrupt change of subject.

"Not really. I thought it was just a name," Morgan confessed. She looked at Soren curiously. "Why?"

"Because when Ike raised his sword against Ashera, Yune lent Ike all her strength, lining Ragnell and him, in the same _azure_ flames you brought forth against Extinction," Soren explained. "Those flames marked the end of our long adventure, and Azure Pyre marks the end of his even longer road."

It took several long seconds for Morgan to understand Soren's meaning, but when she did, she gaped at her reforged weapon, stunned.

"The flames you summoned against Extinction weren't ordinary flames like those from your tome," Soren went on. "Micaiah told us about the gifts the goddess left for her, remember? Three gemstones: one used on the robe you now wear, the second used upon the staff you returned to Micaiah before leaving Daein. And now, it looks as if your sword, too, has been blessed by Ashunera."

"Just like your tome," Morgan said in a hushed, reverent tone.

"Far stronger than my tome," Soren corrected. "The goddess herself intervened in our last battle and lent you her strength. Strength that you needed to battle that abomination…"

"…but strength that I _didn't_ need during last night's battle," Morgan finished guiltily. "I wonder if she's angry with me."

"Probably not. If she was, she could've given you exactly what you were asking for when you were 'testing' your sword in a flammable canvas tent," Soren said mildly.

Morgan scowled at him, but before she could offer any retort, a loud cry for help rang out from the far end of their camp.

"That's Lirian!" Morgan gasped, recognizing the voice immediately. Without another word, she sprinted across the camp, her sword and tome drawn.

* * *

When she reached Lirian at last, Morgan immediately understood that her weapons wouldn't be needed.

Duke Vortimer lay face-down upon the ground. His hands were still bound behind him, and his gag looked to be intact. Blood streamed from a small slit in his upper back. Lirian stood over the fallen duke, seemingly paralyzed with fear, as Severa knelt over the fallen man, gripping a healing staff tightly. She looked up as her sister approached.

"I'm not very good with staves, but I was too late, anyways," Severa explained flatly. She gestured towards a bloody dagger laying on the grassy meadow beside the duke's corpse. "I think he was dead even before I got the dagger out."

"What happened?" Morgan asked softly, though she knew the answer already. Her eyes remained fixated upon Lirian's dagger.

"He tried to run," Lirian choked, and it sounded as if she was fighting back sobs. "I-I tried… tried to stop him, but he pushed me down…"

"So you flung a dagger at him to stop him," Morgan finished hollowly. It was a lie, of course. As a prisoner of war, the duke had been safe from harm. He would have been given an opportunity to defend himself before the Crimean Senate upon their return. He couldn't have been foolish enough to try to escape from an armed guard, Pegasi, and hawk Laguz, especially bound and gagged as he was. And even if he _had_ attempted to escape, Morgan didn't believe for a second that he could have forced his way past Lirian.

Morgan turned and glanced at Soren, who met her gaze pointedly. She then looked around and quickly realized that the rest of their group was beginning to gather around the body, too. Some, like Valent and his friends, seemed only mildly interested. Others, including King Goldoa and Nasir, looked shocked and confused. Then Morgan's gaze settled upon Cerdic and Lunete. On the surface, the two Crimean nobles looked genuinely horrified, but when Morgan met Lunete's gaze, she found a hard, challenging glint in the noblewoman's eyes.

That was all the confirmation Morgan needed. Cerdic might not have been a threat, but the duke of Arbor, a bold young nobleman who sought to champion his country, had been too great of an unknown factor for Lunete to ignore. Morgan knew the truth, and it was clear that Lunete knew that she knew.

Morgan resisted to impulse to shout the truth aloud, and weighed her options carefully. Her friends would believe her, of course. She could likely convince Kurth and Valent, too, but what good would that do? She had seen firsthand how little sway Kurth held in Crimea. Would a Phoenician prince fare any better?

Even if they could publicly denounce what Lunete had done and discredit her before the Crimean Senate, what then? Would the crown pass to Duke Cerdic, making him an ineffectual puppet to be tugged at by every political faction in Crimea? Or would it pass to Lord Catigern instead, who instigated the invasion and could easily make a martyr of his deceased brother?

Morgan's distaste grew as she began to understand. She had been outmaneuvered, and painfully so. The worst of it was that, as terribly wrong as it all seemed, Lunete was giving them exactly what they had hope for. The invasion had been stymied, and she would soon bring peace and stability back to Crimea. With trouble pressing Gallia, and with the Redeemers still lurking just out of sight, they couldn't afford to challenge Lunete now and risk throwing Crimea back into chaos.

Defeated, Morgan shot Soren a final, pleading look, begging silently for guidance. The older tactician had no answer for her, save for a resigned shrug.

Morgan sighed. "Well, you did what you had to do, Lirian," Morgan finally said. "This will make our negotiations with the Crimean army much more difficult."

"It is quite unfortunate," Lunete agreed. "We no longer have to worry about my people trying to continue their march, once they learn of Duke Vortimer's death, but coordinating our return and dissolving this army has become far more difficult. What do you think, Duke Cerdic?" She looked expectantly towards Cerdic as she spoke.

"This is simply dreadful," Cerdic agreed hastily. "Arbor will suffer greatly, with so many of their resources wasted and all of the militiamen here missing so much of the harvest season. We shall have to settle Duke Vortimer's debts to his mercenaries, too. And of course, poor Lord Catigern will be devastated when he learns of his brother's fate."

"Even if the war here is over, it will be many months before Crimea returns to the peace and unity it once knew," Lunete predicted sorrowfully.

It was an obvious cue, and one that Morgan wholeheartedly welcomed. "We can't afford to wait and see this through," she apologized. "Queen Gallia and her people may still need our help."

"Naturally," Lunete said understandingly. "All that Duke Cerdic and I would ask is that you stay a little longer, and provide us with an escort until after we've made contact with the Crimean army."

"Sure," Morgan agreed. "We can head down to speak with them now, if you two are ready."


	7. Chapter 4

**~ Chapter 4 ~**

The scent of brine and the sound of crashing waves greeted Morgan as she stepped out of her conjured rift and onto a small grassy ridge by Gallia's western coast. She was the first to arrive, and at the sound of more rifts opening behind her, she began to turn to greet her friends. She stopped abruptly, though, when she caught sight of the relatively large seaside city that Kurth had directed them to, lying less than a quarter of a mile away.

Or the remains of such a city, at least.

Morgan scanned the ruins carefully, ignoring the nauseating feeling that welled up within her. Not a single building had escaped untouched, and only a few lonely walls of planks and cobblestone had been left standing, swaying defiantly in the light sea breeze. The city's destruction was complete, but it brought Morgan some relief to see that no bodies lay amidst the debris.

That relief lasted only until she turned her attention to the ravaged beach lying beyond the devastated city. The fine golden sands were speckled with driftwood and the wreckages of many vessels, ranging from meager rafts to fishing ship. Waterlogged Laguz corpses lay scattered densely around the rubble, their damp, vibrantly-colored fur marking them clearly even from such a great distance.

Further past the war-torn battlefield, across the sparkling and seemingly tranquil waters of the distant horizon, was a familiar and most unwelcome sight: a massive cetacean creature composed of a mysterious black substance, with a skeletal head and flickering golden flames shining ominously from the creature's otherwise empty eye sockets.

Fixated upon the gruesome scene, Morgan barely noticed the rest of her companions arriving and moving to her side. "Maelstrom," she whispered hollowly, watching as the colossus gradually drifted to the north.

Kurth's attention remained fixed upon the unfortunate city. "Arlen was one of the few longstanding and populous cities in Gallia," he murmured. "This is just like Port Toha all over again."

"Worse," Harmony corrected with a grimace. "The storm Relic inadvertently unleashed upon Port Toha was brutal, but this... this is just…" She seemed unable to complete her thought, and her voice trailed off as she eyed the carnage along the beach.

"To think we traveled so far in search of this," Lucina mumbled.

At Lucina's words, Severa rounded upon Owain challengingly. "So, we found your monster. What's next?" she asked, elbowing the young swordsman.

"M-My monster?" Owain stuttered. With an audible gulp, he peered out at the massive eidolon. Their gazes met, and he felt as if he was sinking into the depths of Maelstrom's swirling, flaming eyes. With a shudder, Owain tore his gaze away, and stared at Severa helplessly.

"Figures," Severa grumbled discontentedly.

"You guys managed to chase this thing away from your homes, then you decided to _go looking for it_ , Owain?" Valent asked, sounding awed. "That sounds like something I'd do. You should've been born a hawk, my friend."

Severa remained unimpressed. "Morgan, you have a plan right? Please, tell me you have a plan," she pleaded. "One better than Owain's."

Morgan held her silence, for while she desperately wanted to comfort her sister, she had no answer to give.

But someone else did. "If not, I have one," a familiar voice answered.

Upon hearing the calm and assuring voice, Morgan spun to face the speaker, any semblance of fear swept cleanly away. There stood her father, accompanied by her younger sisters and Queen Carina of Gallia. Even the queen's tormented and weary expression could not dampen Morgan's delighted smile.

"Or I _had_ one, at least," Robin corrected himself. "Though I think it can be salvaged still."

"Dad!" Severa and Morgan cried out together.

Unlike her older daughters, Cordelia was horrorstruck to see her husband, and more importantly, her younger daughters, so close to the recent battlefield. "Robin!? What are you doing here?" she demanded, terrified.

Though the two girls looked tired, neither seemed to share her concerns. They both beamed at their mother happily, and the younger Severa hopped up and down, waving at her.

"I was hoping to help, but I couldn't leave the girls alone in Begnion," Robin explained quickly. "Don't worry, we're safe out here. The eidolon can't reach us, and the water is too shallow for him to send a tidal wave this far inland."

"But…" Cordelia began.

"How did you find Queen Gallia? And us?" Morgan interrupted curiously.

Robin smiled at her appreciatively, grateful for the timely change in subject. "I knew the Gallian army would need ships to do battle with the eidolon. That meant their army had to be moving towards a port of some sort. One of the archivists from Emperor Yashiro's court helped me narrow it down to just a handful of villages and cities," he explained, nodding deferentially towards Yashiro.

"His arrival came only moments too late," the queen added mournfully. "My people launched their counterattack as soon as they saw my entourage and me approaching the ruined city."

"I tried to ask them to withdraw, but by the time I finished explaining myself, the battle was already ended," Robin said, indicating the distant beach.

Morgan looked past her father and the queen, noticing a large host of Laguz waiting a short distance away. Though she could not tell the refugees and the soldiers apart, it looked as if a good number of Laguz had survived their terrible ordeal. However, as she watched them pace about restlessly, she sensed that each and every one of the once-proud Laguz felt thoroughly defeated.

"Dad, you said that you had a plan, right? One that might still work?" Morgan asked hopefully.

Robin nodded slowly. "I brought the parts to assemble four more of the magical ballistae you used against Extinction, and if we can distract the eidolon long enough, I have another weapon that may work. The problem lies in approaching Maelstrom. Back in Ferox, we had an entire squad of Pegasus knights. Even if it were safe to approach by sea instead of by air, all of Gallia's ships have been destroyed."

"Then we'll build more ships," Carina declared.

Robin looked at her skeptically. "We don't have the time to build another fleet, Your Majesty," he reminded her.

"We certainly do," Carina insisted stubbornly. "How many ships do you need, Tactician?"

Seeing that Robin still looked unconvinced, Kurth did his best to explain. "Gallia's people rarely venture far from shore," he said. "Their ships are similar to Beorc rafts, and can be quickly built."

"We can't approach Maelstrom safely aboard rafts," Morgan protested. "One splash would sweep us all away!"

To her surprise, Robin disagreed. "Actually, rafts might be perfectly suitable for our purposes," he said thoughtfully. "But even as slow as the eidolon is currently moving, by the time we've built our rafts and recovered from using warp powder, he'll be long gone."

"How long will it take for you to recover?" Carina asked, eyeing Maelstrom calculatingly and measuring the eidolon's progress.

"Six to eight hours, perhaps?" Robin guessed.

"That sounds about right," Morgan nodded.

"You'll have your eight hours and your fleet," Carina promised. "Come along." She then set off to rejoin her people without another word of explanation, leaving her puzzled allies wondering what she had in mind.

* * *

Eight hours later, three dozen crude rafts bobbed up and down atop the mild waves, just off the Gallian coastline, about fifty miles north of Arlen. Several hundred Laguz, soldiers and refugees alike, lay sprawled on the beach, looking weary yet satisfied.

Robin wore a similar expression as he and Morgan made the finishing touches on the last of their four ballistae. "There. That should do it," he said, nodding approvingly as he inspected their handiwork.

His daughter didn't share his enthusiasm. "I don't like this," Morgan mumbled. Carefully maintaining her balance aboard their wobbling craft, she glanced at each of the other three ballistae, similarly mounted upon separate vessels.

"Really?" Robin frowned. "I thought you and your mother said they worked fairly well last time."

"Not the ballistae. The ballistae are fine," Morgan clarified hastily. She tapped her foot lightly against the raft they were standing on. The raft rocked gently in response, as if to reaffirm her doubts. "It feels like these rafts could fall apart any minute now."

Her father shrugged helplessly. "Fine by us, as long as that minute comes after the battle is over," he said.

"But they won't last a second against Maelstrom," Morgan reminded glumly.

"Even a Valmese warship wouldn't last very long against him," Robin reasoned. "Given how little time we gave the Laguz to race up here and build these rafts, they actually turned out pretty well. If anything, I'm more worried about the Pegasi."

Morgan looked towards shore again, past the many weary Laguz to where her mother and sisters were waiting beside the exhausted Pegasi. "They'll be alright," she said in a rather unconvincing manner. "We were flying quite slowly. They should rested in time for tonight's battle."

"They're strong enough to pull through," Robin agreed. "I just feel awful for pushing them so hard. First the warp powder, and then flying us so far and so quickly. But it looks like we were only just in time." He pointed south and further out to sea. A shadow could be seen on the distant horizon, growing larger as Maelstrom drew steadily closer.

"He's moving faster now than when we left Arlen," Morgan observed. "It's a good thing we planned for that." She then turned her attention back to the shoreline, where she quickly spotted the rest of Gallia's army approaching from the south.

"It looks like the others are here," Robin remarked, mirroring Morgan's thoughts. "Come on. Let's regroup and prepare for battle."

The two of them set off, hopping carefully from raft to raft as they made their way back to shore. Once there, the two of them trudged across the sandy beach to meet with the rest of their allies.

* * *

As Morgan approached the Gallian army, many Laguz streamed past her. Several took the form of large cats, while others transformed into even larger tigers and lions. The Laguz paid Morgan little attention as they raced down the sandy beach, reverting to their human forms as they neared the vessels. Then, in a shockingly orderly manner, the Gallian soldiers boarded the rafts in groups of four, quickly claiming their oars and pushing their shoddy vessels out to sea.

Impressed, Morgan continued watching until the last row of rafts left the shore to join the rest of the fleet, floating about fifty feet out to sea as the Laguz awaited further instruction. She then turned to check on the worn Laguz laborers, and was glad to see them retreating further inland, understanding that their part in the battle was over.

Not all of the Laguz were as accepting of their assigned roles, however. Like those who had been charged with sprinting north and constructing the fleet, the Laguz who had been tasked with bearing their non-Gallian allies north began moving inland, but many looked disgruntled, and a few even paused to scowl at Morgan as she approached.

Morgan averted her eyes uncomfortably. The proud Laguz were understandably upset, for at their queen's behest, their part in the battle had been reduced to that of common beasts-of-burden. In fact, the young tactician suspected that had it not been for the earlier disaster at Arlen, some or all of the Laguz would have revolted openly upon receiving such orders.

Morgan understood then that Queen Gallia had staked her reputation and the trust of her people on the outcome of the coming battle. Thanks to the Laguz, the rest of Morgan's forces had reached the battlefield in time without further use of warp powder, but many of the Gallian people were now unfit for battle. If they triumphed over Maelstrom, the queen would be proven right, but if they lost...

"Well, if we lose, I don't suppose it'll matter what they think," Morgan muttered aloud, as she looked out towards the Gallian fleet, knowing that Queen Gallia herself was floating aboard one of the flimsy rafts. "I guess we'd better not lose, then." With that said, she approached the nearest cart, offering her hand to Lucina, who was struggling to climb out from it.

"Thanks," Lucina said gratefully. Once her feet found solid ground once more, she hobbled around stiffly, trying to stretch her limbs.

"Are you okay?" Morgan asked worriedly, her gaze sweeping across the princess's bedraggled form.

"I'm fine," Lucina answered tiredly. "I'm just a bit sore. These carts were meant for moving goods around, not people."

"Ow," Owain complained, rubbing his rump gingerly after Morgan helped him out of the cart as well.

"Maybe you two should sit this fight out," Morgan suggested weakly, though she suspected it was already a lost cause. She winced as both Lucina and Owain stared at her, horrified that she had even suggested such a thing.

Severa, who had snuck up silently behind Morgan, burst out laughing. "Did you really think that would work, Morgan?" she teased.

"Nope," Morgan freely admitted. "But the Laguz already launched their fleet, so it might already be too late, anyways."

"You can ferry us over to them, right?" Owain asked.

"I'm also not sure if the rafts are really safe, especially since you two are weighed down by your weapons and armor," Morgan added.

"I'll just ride behind you during the battle, then," Lucina offered.

"I'll be the one flying," Severa said. "Morgan's riding with me. That way, if any of the ballistae get within range without being destroyed, I can fly her over to them."

"Then I'll ride with Aunt Cordelia," Lucina said stubbornly.

"Then what about me?" Owain whined.

"Hmm… I have a better idea," Severa said thoughtfully. "Do you think you could fly Catria yourself, Lucy?"

Lucina hesitated. She had flown her sister's Pegasus a few times, but she was far from an expert Pegasus handler. "I think so. Why?" she asked.

"Because Mom's still worried about our little sisters," Morgan explained, catching on right away. "She might prefer to stay behind and keep an eye on them."

"She's certainly not about to leave them here alone," Severa reasoned. "Maybe she'll let you fly in her place. What do you think?"

"Then I can ride with you, Lucina," Owain added eagerly.

"That's not a bad idea," Lucina said, though she still didn't sound entirely comfortable with it.

"Umm… not to rush you or anything, but we don't have much time to think it over," Morgan said, looking over her shoulder to where Maelstrom was fast approaching.

"It'll work," Lucina decided, any trace of hesitation quickly evaporating. She, Severa, and Owain set off in a hurry.

Morgan wasn't left alone for long, though, for her other companions began to crowd her right away, evidently with the same question. She bit back an exasperated sigh as she caught a glimpse of Symphony's determined expression. "This may just be harder than the battle itself," she muttered.

* * *

At first, Maelstrom didn't even take note of the army assembled nearby. The mighty behemoth swam on, and though he still moved relatively slowly, he left a wake so great that it nearly overturned the meager Laguz rafts.

Though it looked as if Maelstrom would simply pass them by, Morgan knew that the eidolon would have to notice them soon. Even if he didn't, they would soon draw his attention forcibly. A familiar sense of dread gnawed at her as the enormous creature neared them, and she felt as if she couldn't wait for the battle to be over with. From the way Lucina tensed up, Morgan knew that her companion felt the same way.

The young tactician knew that all of her allies were in position, but found herself looking around one more time, checking on each of them. She had been overruled again and again, and nearly every one of her friends remained close by. The nearest was Severa, and riding behind her, Owain. Cordelia had willingly relinquished her Pegasus's reins to her daughters, but had advised against Lucina and Owain riding together, for neither were particularly experienced with Pegasi.

Kurth had already assumed his dragon form. He hovered above them with Yashiro and Felicia clinging tightly to his back. Nasir and Amr waited below aboard one of the rafts, for they could not fly without transforming, nor could they maintain their transformations indefinitely.

Unlike the others who were content to maintain their positions, Valent and his friends soared around restlessly, awaiting their signal. Two of the hawks carried Harmony and Symphony, while Iris flew alongside them under her own power.

"How much longer, Morgan?" Lucina whispered anxiously.

Morgan knew then that the appointed time was upon them. She hesitated, briefly entertaining the idea of letting the mighty eidolon swim past them and away from them unmolested. "That would be the sane thing to do, wouldn't it?" she whispered to herself, smiling faintly.

"What do you mean?" Lucina asked, bewildered.

"Never mind," Morgan said quickly. She drew her tome and looked up. Shimmering golden lights greeted her, swirling gracefully across the night sky above them. Enthralled, she paused for the briefest moment, temporarily distracted. "A good omen," she finally decided, as she loosed a small fireball up into the air, carefully steering it clear of her allies.

The Laguz below followed her signal with their war horns, a bold, rumbling noise that was quickly reciprocated by the many Laguz waiting ashore. As one, they started rowing forward, advancing fearlessly.

King Goldoa let out a mighty roar then, one that drowned out the war horns completely. Nasir and Amr echoed his battle cry, transforming and soaring up from the fleet to join their king. The three dragons glided ahead, with the hawks and Severa following close behind.

Not a single person cowered when Maelstrom's gargantuan, skeletal head swiveled to face them, but as the eidolon shifted in the water, the slight flexing motion alone sent a massive wave rushing towards the Laguz fleet. Morgan cringed as she watched the brutal tide swallow one row of the Laguz vessels after another. When the powerful waves withdrew, it looked as if more than two thirds of the Laguz soldiers had been swept overboard.

But the simplicity of their rafts worked to their advantage. Most of the vessels remained intact and stayed afloat even after being flipped over. Though a few unfortunate passengers had been crushed, most of the Laguz were already scrambling aboard once more. Almost immediately, Morgan saw that two of the ballista-bearing rafts remained intact and right-side up. A third had been overturned, only to be quickly righted by its Laguz protectors.

It took every ounce of discipline Morgan possessed to keep herself from asking Lucina to fly her to the nearest ballista. In order to keep her mind from dwelling on the ballista they had already lost, Morgan kept her attention focused on her flying allies.

Kurth was the first to strike, and breathed forth a whorl of raw, black energy to form a nearly-invisible pool on the eidolon's back. Two streams of white mist followed, as well as a fierce torrent of flames as Begnion's emperor joined the fray. Maelstrom reared up and let out a roar of its own, dwarfing the dragons' battle cries and sending another wave outward to crash into the Laguz fleet.

Morgan cringed again, and could only hope that that wave would be the last, for when the waters began to still once more, only two ballistae remained.

* * *

Though the very air seemed to tremble from the eidolon's roar, Severa surged ahead and past her allies, guiding her Pegasus towards the behemoth's fins. "Are you ready?" she called to Owain.

"What!?" Owain hollered back, unable to hear her over the din. As they continued to speed up, he wrapped his arms around Severa's waist, clinging tightly.

"Oaf," Severa groaned in dismay. She had finally found what she had sought: a section on Maelstrom's fin that appeared cracked and vulnerable. They were close enough now for Owain to drop onto their enemy's back, but he didn't seem interested in doing so.

And truthfully, Severa wasn't sure she wanted him to. There was simply no way for Owain to maintain his footing while standing atop of the thrashing behemoth. Silently apologizing to her sister for deviating from her orders, Severa pulled away instead, slowing her Pegasus and hefting a javelin. Her throw was as accurate as she could have hoped for, driving the javelin's head deep into the eidolon's fin.

"Pass me another javelin!" Severa ordered, raising her voice in hopes that Owain would hear her.

Owain opened his eyes cautiously, but instead of reaching for Catria's saddlebags, he began measuring the distance between them and their target. "We're too far! I can't jump from here!" he cried.

"You don't have to shout in my ear," Severa informed him irritably. "And he's moving too much for us to get any closer," she lied.

"Well… what are we going to do, then?" Owain asked in a small voice, now so quiet that Severa could barely hear him.

"Just pass me my javelins," Severa repeated flatly. A moment later, she resumed her barrage, hurling javelin after javelin at the eidolon's fin.

* * *

"I think this is about as much of an opening as we're going to get," Morgan declared. "Let's go, Lucina."

"Are you sure?" Lucina asked, eyeing the Laguz rafts fearfully. The eidolon continued to thrash and writhe, rendering the waters hazardously turbulent. Few, if any, of the rafts remained under control. Some of the Laguz were still struggling for control over their vessels, but many more had abandoned their efforts and were trying to swim back to shore.

And even more had disappeared beneath the frothing, deadly waves.

"There!" Morgan said, pointing towards one of the rafts below. Two Laguz were standing by one of the magical ballista, signaling towards them frantically.

Lucina shelved her doubts, trusting in Morgan, and urged their Pegasus into a dive, gliding towards the indicated raft. Once they were floating only a few feet above it, Morgan carefully slid down from Catria's back. Despite her small stature, the added weight caused the raft to rock uncontrollably. A strong wave struck the raft a split second later, and the Laguz soldier who had been in the process of loading a bolt lost his footing, sliding overboard. As he fell, his projectile slipped from his grasp, tumbling after him.

"No!" Morgan cried out in protest, diving to catch the bolt. She fell flat on her stomach against the raft, and felt only a rush of air as the bolt slipped past her fingertips. There was an audible, haunting splash, disproportionately loud over the crashing waves, as the heavy projectile fell into the ocean's waiting clutches.

Forcing herself back to her feet, the young tactician raced towards the raft's edge, meaning to fish out the bolt before it sank too far. She had only gone a single step when something forcefully pushed her aside, and she looked up to see only a blur of motion as the other Laguz leapt overboard.

"Wait, don't!" Morgan cried, though she knew she was far too late. The waters churned violently, and the young tactician was thrown to her knees, grabbing onto the ballista to keep herself from sliding overboard, too. She clung on desperately, fighting off a sickening feeling as she tried not to think of the Laguz who had just almost certainly leapt to a watery grave.

Then there was another loud splash, and Morgan nearly lost her grip as the thoroughly soaked Laguz stubbornly clawed herself back onto the raft, the lost ballista bolt clamped tightly in her jaw.

"Start casting, Morgan!" Carina ordered, transforming back into her human shape before rushing forth to load the bolt once more.

"Queen Gallia?" Morgan gaped in surprise, having entirely forgotten that the queen had taken it upon herself to safeguard one of the ballista-bearing rafts.

"Hurry!" Gallia's young queen pleaded. The ballista clicked loudly as she locked the bolt into place.

Without another word, Morgan retrieved her light tome and placed it atop the lectern. The bolt began to shimmer brightly with magically conjured light as Morgan took careful aim, then fired.

There was another bright flash from somewhere nearby, and Morgan's magic-infused bolt was followed by a second shining projectile. The two bolts sliced through the air, leaving trails of sparkling light behind them before burrowing into Maelstrom's nigh impenetrable hide.

The massive eidolon reared up suddenly, and a deafening, unearthly wail poured forth from its gaping skeletal maw. The aerial combatants closest to the beast recoiled as bolts of crackling, cursed lightning rained down around them, and another wave rose around the eidolon and gushed outward, greater than any that had come before.

"Get out of here, Morgan!" Carina instructed, eyeing the wave fearlessly.

"But…" Morgan began to protest, as Lucina swooped towards them, her hand outstretched.

"Don't worry about me. Just go!" Carina demanded.

Obediently, Morgan took Lucina's hand as she approached. Lucina pulled her swiftly aboard, then soared up just high enough to avoid the gigantic wave as it rolled past, swallowing the remaining rafts. When the ocean calmed once more, less than a quarter of the rafts remained, and the rest of the Laguz had surrendered their fight for the battered vessels, instead swimming frantically away from the eidolon.

A flapping sound drew Morgan's attention away from the escaping Laguz. "I'm sorry," Iris gasped apologetically, shifting back into the shape of a winged human as she approached. "We managed to get one shot off, but we didn't have time to load a second bolt."

"It's okay," Morgan said comfortingly. "We only got one shot off, too, but I think that was enough. Look!" She pointed towards Maelstrom. The colossus eidolon had noticeably slowed, as if the magical bolts and the continual aerial onslaught had left him crippled, or at least winded. Though the waters continued to churn around him, the ripples faded quickly. "Nice shot, Iris."

"I didn't… it wasn't… one of the others aimed the bolt, not me," Iris stammered.

"Good spell, then," Lucina congratulated, smiling warmly.

"Get yourself to safety, Iris. We'll see you later, once the battle's over," Morgan promised. "Come on, Lucina. Let's end this."

* * *

"This isn't working," Owain noted dully.

"Really? You don't say?" Severa snarled angrily as she embedded yet another javelin into the eidolon's fin. Though Maelstrom was either too weary or too lazy to move, the air was suddenly permeated by the stench of burning ozone. Severa instinctively urged her Pegasus into a steep dive a split second before a crackling bolt of lightning arced through the air, narrowly missing them.

Shaken by the rolling thunder, Owain pressed himself tightly against Severa's back. "We can't stay here!" he cried, though his voice was so muffled that his words were barely discernable.

"Good idea," Severa acknowledged, noticing that Maelstrom's magical lightning seemed to shoot forth from his fins, and always traveled outward. Instead of reaching for another javelin, she drew Passion instead. "Hold on tight," she warned.

Without any further warning, her Pegasus swerved in towards the eidolon, flying too quickly for Owain to even consider letting go. "Slow down!" he cried, realizing that he was close enough for a jump.

Severa ignored him and leveled her lance carefully towards Maelstrom's fin, slicing a deep gash between where her javelins protruded. As she spun away, her lance's shaft clipped one of the javelins, driving it deeper.

"I can't jump when you're flying so fast!" Owain complained as Severa banked hard, soaring away from their enemy once again.

"That's the idea," Severa grumbled quietly. She readied herself for another pass, but stopped as she saw another Pegasus soaring towards her. "Lucy! Morgan!" she called, relieved.

A quick glance at the eidolon's wounded fin told Morgan everything she needed to know. "Perfect," she concluded. She drew a second tome, one that she had borrowed, bound in fine green cloth. A vicious gale spun forth, more powerful than any wind spell the young tactician had previously conjured, ripping into the eidolon and tearing the javelins aside, widening the wounds.

The eidolon shuddered, and though it had clearly felt the violent blow, it remained relatively still.

A shadow fell over them, and Morgan glanced upward to see Kurth flying overhead.

"Closer, Lucina," Morgan urged, exchanging the tome she had borrowed from Soren for a staff.

Lucina obeyed, bringing Catria right up to the wounded fin, and Morgan gestured with her staff, her mind reaching out to shore.

There was a sudden flash, and Robin appeared beside them, perched atop another lectern. This lectern had been outfitted with a long and heavy iron spike, and as soon as it materialized, it plummeted down, burrowing deep into the eidolon's back. It, and Robin, came to a rest beside the cracked fin. Kurth descended quickly, allowing Yashiro to step down onto Maelstrom's back beside Robin.

"Good luck!" Morgan called to them, as Lucina began flying towards the eidolon's skull.

"You too!" Robin acknowledged, saluting casually as he brandished his own tome.

* * *

Further down Maelstrom's back, Morgan came across Valent and his friends, who were still frantically tearing at another of the eidolon's fins. Harmony was with them, alternating attacks with her sword and her tome, though her blows seemed equally ineffective. "How's this?" Valent called when he saw Lucina and Morgan approaching.

Morgan frowned, unable to tell that the fin had even been wounded. The large, shallow crack that ran the length of the fin remained, but any other damage inflicted by the hawk Laguz and Harmony was undiscernible. "I don't know," Morgan admitted. She glanced at the eidolon's side, where Kurth, Nasir, and Amr had struck. The eidolon's hide there was cracked, too, and looked far more vulnerable, but the young tactician couldn't see any way of embedding another lectern in Maelstrom's side.

"Where's Symphony?" Lucina asked with a frown, noticing that Harmony's brother was conspicuously absent.

"He went down that way," Harmony said, gesturing towards the eidolon's skull. "He said he was looking for another weak point."

"Let's see if he found what he was looking for," Lucina suggested. Morgan reluctantly agreed, and they set off once more, flying along Maelstrom's back. Finally, they came across Symphony, standing at the base of the eidolon's skull.

"Hey there," Symphony greeted them. "Did Harmony and the others break through the fin?"

"Not really," Morgan said, glancing at the gaping hole at Symphony's feet.

"Damn. Will this work, then?" Symphony asked, jabbing the head of one sickle into the wound. There was a horrible squelching sound, and Maelstrom seemed to tremble as the sharp blade bit in.

"Absolutely," Morgan said, grinning ear-to-ear. "You head on back to shore; we'll be right behind you."

"Wait. Have you two seen Iris?" Symphony asked.

"She's fine. We asked her to withdraw once we lost the ballistae," Lucina assured. "She's waiting for you back at shore."

"Alright. Good luck," Symphony said, invoking his warp powder and leaving Lucina and Morgan alone.

Only for the briefest second, though, for after another pass of Morgan's staff, Soren appeared beside them along with a second lectern. Morgan's aim proved perfect, and the lectern's spike fell directly atop of the gaping wound Symphony had left.

"My tome," Soren requested, reorienting himself quickly.

"Here," Morgan said, leaping down and passing the tome over. She watched, fascinated, as Soren set to work, first invoking a light rune to create a cage of shimmering white energy around the base of the lectern, then wielding his tome to fill the magical prism with whirling winds, crackling with glowing viridian light.

When he was finished, he looked expectantly towards Morgan. "Your turn," he prompted her, when she didn't move.

"Oh, right!" Morgan said, blushing. She hastily set her light tome into the lectern, and prepared to add her magic to the impending blast.

But then she heard a familiar melodic voice, singing words that meant nothing, yet everything, to her. She hesitated, and glanced down to Eternity, sheathed and belted at her hip.

"Hurry, Morgan. We don't have much time," Lucina urged.

Soren eyed her curiously, following the direction of her gaze to the sword, and understood. "Trust her," he said.

"You can hear it? The voice?" Morgan asked, shocked.

Lucina looked at the two tacticians, bewildered, but neither paid her any attention. "Of course not," Soren said. "But if you can hear her, then do as she wishes."

Morgan eyed him calculatingly for a few seconds before complying. She removed her tome from the lectern and drew Eternity, resting the blade's tip in her tome's place.

Sapphire flames swirled within the light rune, joining Soren's conjured winds to form a compressed, blazing vortex. The magic within the rune shined brighter with each passing second, bathing the area around them in a soft blue light, overshadowing the reflections of the golden lights above.

"Good enough," Soren interrupted, seizing Morgan's arm and pulling her away from the lectern.

"But…"

"The signal, then the warp powder," Soren instructed firmly. "Before your father's rune fades, killing him, Begnion's emperor, _and_ Goldoa's king."

With that ominous possibility looming over her, Morgan fumbled with her belt, sheathing Eternity. She emerged with her fire tome and warp powder in hand.

Less than thirty seconds later, everyone present, even those capable of flying under their own power, had vacated the eidolon's back. Joined by those who had not participated in the battle and those who had been forced from the battlefield earlier, they stood atop a wide ridge, watching from a safe distance as the first rune collapsed.

Flames exploded outwards from the center of the eidolon as the first light rune collapsed. Lightning sprayed erratically in every direction, crashing thunderously against the behemoth, eliciting another agonized wail.

And then the second light rune, too, expired. Azure flames spread from just behind the monstrosity's skull, dragged along by howling winds and lining the creature's ebon flesh. The holy blue flames collided with the emperor's crimson embers, consuming them and spreading even further, until the entirety of the eidolon's back was covered in a raging, cerulean wildfire.

Maelstrom let out another agonized wail and bowed his back, caving beneath the devastating magic. Morgan's shimmering flames continued to spread, flaring out from Maelstrom's skull, the wounds along his side, and the cracks on his unwounded fins, until they completely engulfed the dire eidolon.

In his desperation, Maelstrom turned to sea, diving as deep as he could in the shallow waters. Even the ocean could not quench the sacred flames, though, and the sea itself began to glow as the flames crackled hungrily beneath the water's surface. Then, with one final shudder, the eidolon went still, and its horrid form began wilting and flaking away.

* * *

"Show-off," Chrom said, though he couldn't hide his broad smile.

"I thought you could use _some_ good news," Robin replied nonchalantly, though he had to practically scream to be heard through the enchanted mirror over the chorus of cheers.

"It makes for a nice change in pace," Chrom admitted. "The blue flames were a nice touch. Did you actually bring your flame-coloring substances with you, or did you find some there?"

"Neither, actually. I'm not sure where they came from," Robin admitted.

"They were Morgan's doing," Cordelia said, remembering the same flames from the battle against Extinction.

"Nice. Once we track down that damned dragon, do you think she'd be willing to blow him up for us, too?" Chrom asked.

"You still have no idea where he is?" Robin asked, surprised. "How could such a large creature disappear unnoticed?"

"No idea. Then again, we only just returned to Ylisstol and sent out Cynthia's Pegasus knights. Maybe they'll have some information for us when they get back," Chrom said with a shrug. "Or maybe Ferox knows something about it. Frederick says Feroxi messengers arrived about half an hour ago, and are on their way to the palace now."

"A Feroxi messenger, eh?" Robin mused.

"It might just be one of the khans looking for a champion again," Chrom pointed out.

"Probably," Robin conceded. "Oh well. We won't hold you up. Let me know if you learn anything, though."

"Of course. You and Cordelia have better things to do, anyways. Like enjoying your little celebration," Chrom teased.

Robin groaned, but before he could remind Chrom that their problems were far from settled, the mirror went dark. "Very funny," he remarked anyways.

"He's right, though," Cordelia said, clasping Robin's hand in hers. "We might not have very long to celebrate."

"We might be out of time already," Robin said, nodding towards the beach, where some of the Laguz were already hard at work, pulling survivors and fallen friends alike from the tides and wreckages. "Cordelia?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry," Robin apologized. "I know I shouldn't have brought the girls out here. I didn't want to do it. I wish I had time to come up with something else, and I know…"

"It's alright," Cordelia interrupted. "You were right. We _did_ need your help, and the girls are safer here with us than, well, anywhere else."

"Maybe, but I think it's time for me to take them back to Begnion," Robin said. "I don't want them to see us cleaning up after the battle."

"Okay, but _you_ get to convince them that it's time to leave," Cordelia said, smirking as she drew Robin's attention to where Lucina, Severa, and Owain were playing with the two younger girls.

"That's fair," Robin surrendered with a deep sigh. "You'll stay and look after the others?"

"Of course. We'll be back soon, too," Cordelia promised, pulling her husband into a tight embrace. "Take care of yourself, too. Alright?"

"I'll try, but no promises," Robin said playfully, pulling away quickly and answering her sudden scowl with a disarming smile.

* * *

Just below the ridge, Soren leaned against the mossy stone, watching as the Laguz labored over their fallen friends. His distant stare bore past them, and out to sea, while his mind raced furiously, pondering their next move.

Until he heard the soft footsteps atop the ridge and realize he wasn't alone. "Looking for me?" Soren called out.

The footsteps paused for a moment. Then Morgan carefully climbed down the ridge, landing beside him. She said nothing at first, and like Soren, found herself watching the Laguz soldiers at work. "We should help them," she finally said.

"We just used warp powder. We don't have the strength to help them, and would only get in their way," Soren reminded.

"Oh. Right."

"Did you want to ask me something?" Soren prompted when Morgan fell silent.

"Earlier… you asked me to trust her," Morgan said. "Ashunera, right? Tellius's goddess?"

"I did," Soren confirmed.

"But you said you couldn't hear her. How did you know she was talking to me? If that's what she was doing," Morgan asked.

"Your expression made it quite clear," Soren said. "And it wasn't unexpected, after our battle in Daein."

"I guess," Morgan said. She struggled for some time to phrase her next question. "You and the Radiant Hero fought against her, right? Or her light half, at least.

"Light half? Not exactly," Soren mused. "Ashera was the goddess of order and stability, opposite to Yune, the goddess of chaos. Old Dheginsea, Kurth's father, labeled Yune a dark god, but that was only a myth."

"But Ashera was your enemy once," Morgan pressed. "And if Yune was the goddess of chaos, why are you so sure we can trust them? Her?"

"Blind faith, I suppose. What else can it be when there's a goddess involved?" Soren answer evasively.

Morgan eyed him thoughtfully, recognizing his deflection for what it was. "You're not a priest, Soren," she said slowly.

"And never has anyone mistaken me for one," Soren replied.

"This isn't just about faith," Morgan continued, undaunted. "You know something about her. Something that I don't know, not that that's difficult, since I don't know anything about her, really. But something's convinced you that she's on our side. Right?"

"And if that's true?" Soren asked.

Morgan shrugged and smiled. "Well, that's good enough for me."

At last, Soren turned to face the younger tactician. He said nothing, though, and only stared at her, torn between curiosity and incredulity.

"What is it?" Morgan asked, her smile fading slightly.

"That's all you wanted to hear? I didn't even answer any of your questions," Soren pointed out disbelievingly.

"You're not _that_ hard to read," Morgan said, unconcerned. "Besides, I figured as much already before I came over to talk to you. I was just curious… I still am, really. But you don't seem to want to talk about it, and I'm sure you have a good reason for that."

Soren looked towards the sea once more, deliberately avoiding Morgan's gaze. "You're far too trusting," he chided gently.

"You're probably right," Morgan agreed, thinking of Lunete. "But after these past couple months, I think we're safe to trust each other. I hope so, anyways."

Though she didn't realize it, her rambling struck a chord within Soren. He didn't really have a good reason for keeping Morgan in the dark, not when, unbeknownst to the younger tactician, he had already entrusted his life to her.

"Priest or not, it really is about faith," he finally said, making up his mind. "Maybe not _completely_ blind; back in Daein, I saw a miracle with my own eyes, after all."

Morgan shot him a quizzical look. "And you're sure it was from her?" she asked.

"As sure as I could hope to be," Soren said. He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "She… spoke to me. Or, at the very least, I thought she was standing before me, and thought I could hear her voice. At the time, we were on the verge of losing everything, and yet, we still managed to find our way."

"You spoke with her, huh? I guess that explains a lot," Morgan said thoughtfully. When she saw the odd look Soren leveled her way, she laughed. "Yeah, I know. I'm too trusting, right?" she teased.

"Accepting a story like that without question? Maybe just a bit," Soren said dryly.

"Listening to you seems to be working for me so far," Morgan pointed out cheerily. "You even tried to warn me about Lady Lunete, only I didn't understand until it was too late. I'm sure you're right in trusting this goddess, too. You'll see."


	8. Part Two: Brave Icon

**~ Part Two ~**

 **Brave Icon**

 _I hope Soren is right about Ashunera. I hope she really is out there somewhere, watching over us and ready to lend us her strength if we need it, as Naga was during our war against Grima._

 _Maelstrom is finally gone. When I first set out from Ylisse, this is where I thought my journey would end. I hoped to find Owain and bring him home without delay, but I always suspected that Owain would prove to be right, and that we'd find ourselves facing that monstrosity again._

 _We've come such a long way, reaching the end of the longest road I had imagined, and yet, I feel as if our road stretches longer still._

 _We've vanquished two of the three dire eidolons. The last of them remains thousands of miles away, and knowing Uncle Chrom, Calamity isn't long for our world, either. We've foiled the Redeemers at every turn, too. Soon, everyone will know who they are and what they are after. Phoenicis, Daein, Crimea, and Gallia are all beginning to recover from the chaos. They might not return to order right away, especially Crimea, but at least they'll have peace, however uneasy. It feels like victory is at hand._

 _And still, we know almost nothing about Charon. Even the spy we met in Begnion, the assassin Soren called Volke, couldn't tell us much about the Redeemers' mysterious leader. We may have backed Charon and his cult into a corner, but what does that really mean for us?_

 _Maybe after suffering so many defeats, they'll simply surrender their ambitions. This is how I wish for it to end, for everyone's sake. I don't want to understand Charon. I don't want to try to hunt him down, or to punish him for what he's doing, no matter how badly he may deserve it. If he, Medea, Relic, and the rest of their fanatical followers choose to disappear and seek out a peaceful existence, I think it would be better for the rest of Tellius to move on, too._

 _But I don't think they will._

 _They've been scheming too long to simply surrender. Despite all the setbacks they've suffered, and despite the fact that they can't hide in the shadows for much longer, they still have many pieces in play. Medea and Relic remain very much alive. They still have their eidolons and phantoms, and a sizable army of loyal soldiers. They still hold Tellius's Fire Emblem, and though we've done our best to quell the chaos spreading through Tellius, they may still be able to strengthen some of their minor eidolons._

 _We've beaten their eidolons, their phantoms, and their soldiers before. We're not afraid of Medea or Relic, either. I know that Severa and Symphony, especially, would love to face Medea again. As for the Fire Emblem, we've beaten two dire eidolons already. How strong could Charon hope to make a regular eidolon? No, I'm not afraid of any of the pieces the Redeemers have shown us._

 _It's what they_ haven't _shown us that I'm worried about. The Redeemers have been one step ahead of us this entire time, and now, with almost the entirety of Tellius weakened, they have one last chance to make their move, and no reason to hold anything back._

 _And by now, we've been pushed to our limits and beyond. There's only so much a handful of people can do against an army. The one time we faced the Redeemer's openly, at any approximation of their fullest strength, it ended in disaster. Priam was slain, Extinction was freed, and if Dad hadn't brought Begnion's Holy Guard to reinforce us, it would have been even worse._

 _It will come down to Goldoa and Begnion, I think. They alone have escaped the Redeemers' plots relatively unscathed. Should the Redeemers dare to rise openly, King Goldoa and Emperor Yashiro will face them fearlessly, with their people standing firmly behind them. Queen Micaiah, King Phoenicis, and Queen Gallia will stand with them, too, lending whatever strength they can afford. Tellius has no shortage of champions and heroes, young and old alike._

 _We'll be there, too, of course, doing what we can to help. And if Soren and I are wrong, and the goddess isn't looking out for us anymore, we'll just have to make a couple of tacticians and a handful of soldiers count._


	9. Chapter 5

**~ Chapter 5 ~**

"Hey, Morgan. Are you awake?"

Morgan stirred at the sound of Severa's voice, yawning and opening her eyes groggily. She quickly saw that her tent remained perfectly dark, and that only a couple hours could have passed since she had retired for the night. "No," she grumbled, rolling over in her bedroll and pulling her covers over her head.

"Yes you are! Wake up, Morgan!"

Upon hearing her younger self's voice, Morgan sat bolt upright. For a brief moment, she wondered if she had maybe misheard, but the younger girl crashed through the tent flap a moment later, dispelling that notion. "Morgan? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be back in Begnion with Dad!" Morgan gasped.

In the darkness, she couldn't quite make out the little girl's face, but could imagine her expression easily enough, complete with her wide, imperturbable eyes. "Come on! Daddy says it's important!" the toddler demanded.

"Dad? He's back here, too? But why?" Morgan asked blankly. As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized the futility of her question, and began reaching for her robe.

"Bad people were coming to get us," the excited toddler answered happily, without any trace of fear.

"Begnion is under attack," Severa translated with a snicker.

Morgan ceased fumbling with her robe and froze. " _Begnion_ is under attack?" she asked, stunned. "By who?"

"The Redeemers. Who else? They've finally left their little fortress, and have begun marching towards Sienne," Severa explained, stifling a yawn of her own. "Now hurry up. Dad's waiting for you, and I'm supposed to go wake Harmony, too."

* * *

Following the younger Morgan, the older Morgan made her way across the camp, where she found Robin waiting for them at the edge of the nearby woodlands. Cordelia waited nearby, sitting on a fallen tree with the younger Severa, who was clearly struggling to stay awake.

Yashiro and Felicia had already arrived. The emperor hadn't noticed Morgan's approach, and wore a grave expression as he continued conversing quietly with Robin. Felicia seemed less concerned, and waved towards both Morgans as they approached.

"The Holy Guard has already been dispatched. The senators readily agreed on that much, but are still debating whether to send the rest of the army," Robin was saying.

"Additional reinforcements shouldn't be necessary," Yashiro replied. "The Holy Guard alone should be sufficient. We've been watching the Divine Citadel carefully for some time. Their soldiers numbered no more than two hundred, with limited cavalry. We would have taken care of them sooner, but they seemed content to remain peacefully holed up in their fortress and we could not justify the risk and effort in confronting them directly."

"According to your scouts, the Redeemers' force has more than doubled, reinforced not by additional soldiers, but with animated suits of armor," Robin explained grimly.

"Two hundred phantoms!?" Morgan interrupted, thunderstruck.

"Closer to three hundred," Robin corrected.

Behind Morgan, Severa approached them, closely followed by Harmony. The latter looked as shocked as Morgan. "Three hundred phantoms?" Harmony gasped. "How?"

"Our best guess is that they've been building phantoms within their fortress for a while," Robin replied. "That's why I sent for you. I was hoping you could tell us more about them."

"That's not what I meant," Harmony said, shaking her head. "Phantoms aren't easily controlled. Relic and Medea could each control just over a score. Even my brother, who had a much stronger pact, could only control perhaps thirty of them at once. An army of three hundred phantoms shouldn't be possible."

"Maybe there are other spirit charmers among the Redeemers," Morgan suggested weakly.

"There were, but none strong enough to command more than a handful of eidolons. A phantom, maybe two, at best," Harmony explained.

"Then maybe it's a trick of some sort," Morgan offered.

"Or my scouts could be mistaken," Yashiro pointed out.

"Does it really matter?" Felicia interjected. "Our army numbers in the thousands."

"Cia's right," Yashiro said thoughtfully. "If they truly number less than five hundred, even a third of Begnion's army would be enough to defeat them, phantoms notwithstanding."

"Likely so, but your army remains in Sienne," Robin reminded. "Some of the senators are pushing to dispatch the army in full. Others fear that the attack may be a diversion, and favor waiting for the Redeemers to reach Sienne. A few have even begun pushing to recall your Pegasus knights."

"Those idiots," Felicia groaned.

"It's not unexpected," Yashiro said in a resigned tone. "In truth, I don't know if it's worth returning and urging them to act. The rest of our forces can't hope to catch up the Holy Guard."

"The senators who want to sit and wait may have the right idea, after all," Robin noted. "Maybe we should contact Commander Kara and ask her and her knights to start evacuating any civilians along the Redeemers' path."

"It worked for Daein with Extinction," Morgan added.

Their reasoning was sound, but their proposal clearly did not sit well with Yashiro. Thousands had lost their homes before Daein made its stand in Nevassa. Against a dire eidolon, their caution had been justified, but was this invading force enough of a threat to warrant the same sacrifice?

"Morgan, the Begnion Holy Guard numbers around five hundred at its fullest strength," Yashiro began slowly. "Do you think you can defeat the Redeemers when your forces are evenly matched, at least in numbers?"

"M-Me?" Morgan sputtered. She instinctively glanced at her father, as if pleading for him to intervene.

"Cia told me all about your campaign in Phoenicis. You've won many battles now, despite being heavily outnumbered," Yashiro said. "I realize our present situation is different, but I'd prefer to hold our ground, if at all possible."

"You can do it, right?" Felicia urged. "Most of Strife's soldiers didn't get anywhere close to a battle when you stormed Phoenicis, and we didn't even bring an army here to face Duke Vortimer and his forces."

"Well, yes," Morgan admitted reluctantly. "But we weren't trying to rout our enemies."

"There's no pressure," Yashiro said gravely. "If you don't believe this battle can be won, then we'll do as your father suggested and withdraw."

Morgan mulled it over carefully, then turned to Harmony. "Harmony, what happens if the spirit charmer controlling a phantom is killed?"

"The same thing that happens if a spirit charmer stops controlling it: the phantom acts of its own accord, instinctively attacking whoever is closest," Harmony said. "But the spirit charmers controlling the phantoms may not even be present for the battle. They could be hiding just about anywhere in Tellius."

"And we don't have time to find them. So much for that idea," Morgan sighed.

"Then you don't think we can win?" Felicia asked, sounding disappointed.

"I don't know," Morgan answered in a tone of uncertainty. She understood why the emperor was reluctant to fall back, but after battling the phantoms firsthand, the thought of taking on an army of three hundred of them was daunting, to say the least.

"It's hard for us to say for sure," Robin added supportively. "At least until we have a better idea of what we're up against."

"If we can bring some warp powder to Commander Kara, she can send some scouts ahead," Yashiro proposed.

Morgan considered his suggestion carefully, but finally dismissed it. "It makes more sense to go take a look ourselves, especially if our hawk Laguz are willing to help," Morgan decided. "Severa, could you go wake Prince Valent?"

"Sure thing," Severa agreed readily.

"Right now?" Cordelia asked, startled.

"Sure. The sooner we lay eyes on them, the better, right?" Morgan said, as Severa set off towards the campsite. She then turned to her father. "Dad, do you know where the Redeemers are?"

"Not precisely, but the Begnion Senate expects them to reach a duchy called Tanas within three days," Robin replied. "They're hoping that the Holy Guard will reach Tanas first."

"Tanas lies near the western edge of Begnion territory, south of the Divine Citadel," Yashiro explained. "The Redeemers must intend to march around the Grann Desert."

"Emperor Yashiro, do you think the Begnion Holy Guard reach Tanas in time?" Morgan asked.

"If they fly straight over the desert and surrounding mountains, certainly," Yashiro replied.

"Alright. Severa, Valent, and I will warp to Tanas now, and once we've recovered, we'll search for the Redeemers," Morgan decided. "Once matters are settled here in Gallia, everyone else can head over to Tanas, too, and wait there for the Begnion Holy Guard to arrive."

"Are you certain that you won't need any more help?" Yashiro asked.

"Positive," Morgan said, nodding. "A larger scouting party is more easily spotted. The Redeemers won't notice a single hawk and a lone Pegasus."

"You'll need somewhere safe to stay in Tanas," Robin reminded. "It's far enough that it will take several hours for the warp powder's effects to wear off. Until sunrise, at least."

"Nasir owns a manor in Tanas," Felicia offered. "It's secluded enough that our enemies wouldn't be watching it. You should be able to rest there; I doubt Nasir would mind. Should I go ask him for you?"

"Nah, let the old dragon sleep," Valent said, abruptly and literally dropping into the conversation. "He won't care. Belle, Celera, and I stay there all the time, as do his Goldoan friends. Heck, he invited Celera's entire patrol to stay there when they were investigating the Redeemers in Tergum. It's probably empty right now, though…"

Just then, Severa returned, panting for breath.

"What kept you so long?" Valent asked cheerily.

"Some of us don't have wings, jerk!" Severa shot back.

Valent only laughed, taking no offense. "When do we leave, Morgan?"

"Soon. Just give me a moment to gather my stuff," Morgan said.

"I've got it all here," Severa interrupted, passing Morgan's satchel to her. "Come on. Let's go get Catria."

* * *

Though they had meant to stay only until the warp powder wore off, it wasn't until late morning that Morgan finally pulled herself away from the finely furnished guest room. Though the room had looked as if it hadn't been used in a long while, it was still by far more comfortable than any room she remembered staying in before.

She made her way down the hallway outside, marveling at the elegant and colorful tapestries strung along nearly every wall. All in all, she found it a bit excessive, but it was certainly unique, and gave the manor a luxurious feel.

"Did you sleep well?" Nasir asked from the base of one of the manor's wide spiral staircases.

"Nasir? What are you doing here?" Morgan asked, startled.

"What kind of host would I be if I didn't ensure my guests could find everything they needed?" Nasir winked. "Valent and your sister are waiting for you in the courtyard."

With a gasp, Morgan began frantically sprinting down the stairs.

"Relax. They haven't been waiting long," Nasir assured. "Valent wanted to wake you, but your sister insisted that they wait."

Morgan calmed slightly, slowing to a brisk walk as she followed Nasir down one of the manor's halls. "Thanks for letting us stay here," she said.

"You're very welcome," Nasir said warmly. "To tell the truth, I wish this manor saw more visitors. I don't stay here too often myself, only when I'm passing through Tanas on my way to Sienne. When I do visit, I often find myself wishing that this manor felt a bit less deserted."

"You don't visit Tanas often?" Morgan asked, surprised. "Why did you decide to buy such a large home out here, then?"

"Oh, I didn't purchase this manor," Nasir laughed. "It was a gift from an old friend. One that you've met, though you may not remember him. Do you recall King Phoenicis' uncle?"

"I think so. The heron, right? He introduced himself back in Kilvas," Morgan remembered. "I think he said his name was Reyson."

"That's him. A long time ago, this manor belonged to the duke of Tanas. The duke left no heir when he passed away, and decided to will everything he owned to Reyson," Nasir explained.

"Wow. I guess Reyson and the duke must have been close friends," Morgan said, impressed.

Nasir chuckled. "Nothing of the sort. Reyson despised Duke Tanas."

Morgan shot him a perplexed look.

"It's a long story. Reyson had some bitter memories of this place in particular, and wanted nothing to do with it. Instead, he offered it to King Kurthnaga. The king then passed it on to me, knowing that I often visit Begnion, both at his behest and of my own accord," Nasir continued. "It worked out quite well in the end. Tanas used to be particularly unwelcoming towards the Laguz. Now, the duchy's finest manor serves as a home away from home for many visiting Laguz. Not Reyson, though. He still refuses to set foot in this place."

"I see," Morgan said thoughtfully. She was beginning to see the manor's opulent furnishings in a new light. "So this manor used to belong to a Begnion noble? Did these tapestries belong to him, too?"

"Indeed. You didn't think my tastes to be so frivolous, did you?" Nasir said, smiling faintly. "Thankfully, they're reasonably tasteful, unlike most of the paintings Duke Tanas owned." As he spoke, they passed a large painting depicting three beautiful, winged figures. The colors seemed rather timeworn, but the pale golden hair and the pearly white wings remained pronounced.

"That one looks nice," Morgan said. "Are those herons? The one on the right looks a bit like King Phoenicis' sister."

"That's their mother, Leanne," Nasir said. He then pointed towards the heron standing on the left. "That one's Reyson. The one standing between them is Rafiel, their older brother. Duke Tanas hired many talented artists and commissioned a few genuinely beautiful works. Unfortunately, he was also quite vain, and for every such painting, he owned at least nine more self-portraits."

"Well, were they nice self-portraits, at least?" Morgan asked, guessing otherwise.

"I had them all removed for a reason," Nasir grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "I can't quite remember what I did with them, but if you want, I'll see if I can find one lying around somewhere. You can take it home with you."

"Umm… no thanks," Morgan declined politely, unable to suppress a giggle as they reached the end of the hall and stepped out into the courtyard.

"About time, sleepyhead," Valent hailed her from across the courtyard.

"As if you have any right to talk," Severa fumed. "You've been up for, what, thirty minutes?"

"I figured you two could use the extra time to pack," Valent said, shrugging. He reached for one of Catria's saddlebags, only for Severa to bat his hand away with her satchel.

"Maybe you could've helped me pack then, instead of snacking on our provisions," Severa grumbled. She then reached into the saddlebag herself and scooped out an apple, flipping it casually to her sister, who caught it in both hands. "Here."

"Thanks," Morgan said, polishing it hastily.

"You ready to go?" Severa asked, pulling herself astride their Pegasus.

Morgan nodded and climbed up behind her sister. Bursting with impatience, Valent shot up into the air as soon as Morgan was settled, with a disgruntled Severa urging Catria into fast pursuit.

* * *

Two days later, the two Pegasus riders and their hawk Laguz companion returned to Tanas once more, speeding towards Nasir's manor. As soon as the distant duchy came into view, Morgan began peering over her sister's shoulder nervously, as if she were searching for something.

"Will you stop that?" Severa said, sounding irritated. "You're not going to see anything from all the way out here."

"But…" Morgan began to argue.

"Either they're there already, or they aren't. Not like we can do anything about it now, anyways," Severa said firmly. She leaned backward, forcing Morgan to reluctantly settle into her seat.

"You two can't see the manor from here?" Valent asked, feigning surprise.

"Can you?" Morgan asked eagerly.

"Have they arrived?" Severa blurted out, betraying her apparent ambivalence.

"Maybe, maybe not. What does it matter? Either they're there already, or they aren't. Right?" Valent teased, mocking Severa's earlier words.

Severa blushed. "Right. Now shut up," she said.

"Sure thing," Valent agreed readily, grinning broadly.

"Oh, come on, Valent!" Morgan protested. "Tell me! What do you see?"

But Valent was true to his word, and despite the young tactician's persistent wheedling, he said nothing more until they were close enough for Severa and Morgan to see the manor themselves. Eventually, they spotted the swath of white blanketed the area north of the manor, and their eyes lit up eagerly.

"There they are," Severa said. She pointed towards them unnecessarily, for Morgan had already spotted the herd of Pegasi herself. "Hey, cut that out!" she added, as Morgan began excitedly rummaging through their Pegasus's saddlebags. "There'll be plenty of time to dig out your plans _after_ we land."

Morgan remained undeterred, and by the time they came to a stop in the same courtyard they had departed from, her plans were clutched firmly in hand. It looked as if their approach had been spotted, too, for every one of their companions was already present, including one they had not expected to see.

"Ah, Queen Gallia. What brings you here?" Valent greeted heartily.

"The same matter that has kept you and King Goldoa here," Carina answered simply. "This battle affects Gallia as much as it affects Phoenicis or Goldoa."

"Don't your people need you back in Gallia?" Morgan asked.

"My people are quite capable of fending for themselves. They can manage without me for a week or two," the young queen assured. She shot Begnion's emperor a cheeky grin. "Unlike Begnion, it seems."

"I would be offended, had your words not been wholly and indisputably true," Yashiro lamented. He eyed the plans Morgan was clutching. "What did you find, then?" he asked, careful to contain his excitement.

"About two hundred soldiers and three hundred phantoms, just like your scouts indicated," Severa replied.

"But we can beat them," Morgan assured confidently, raising her roughly scribbled plans high into the air. "I wasn't sure our Pegasus knights would arrive in time, but since they're here already, we should have plenty of time."

"Excellent. When do we depart?" Yashiro asked.

"How soon can we have everyone ready to go?" was Morgan's predictable response.

"Everyone's already packed, and Commander Kara and her troops will be ready at a moment's notice," Yashiro said. He glanced slyly towards Soren. "But there _is_ something we should take care of before setting out," he added.

"What's that?" Morgan asked curiously.

"Begnion has many longstanding and cumbersome traditions. Unfortunately, I'm bound to abide by them. If I am to place Begnion's troops at your command, you must be given a more suitable title, first," Yashiro declared.

For several long seconds, Morgan stared at him blankly. Then the emperor's words finally clicked, and her expression became one of absolute horror. "You want to make me a noble!?" she squeaked, hitting a remarkably high pitch.

Yashiro smiled gently at her. "You've certainly earned the distinction."

"Congratulations, Morgan," Felicia added warmly.

Morgan gaped at the pair, then turned her pleading expression to the others. Robin's expression was blank and completely inscrutable. Some merely shrugged, but Kurth and Carina both nodded encouragingly, as did Lucina.

"But I… this isn't… I'm not…" Morgan sputtered, looking around desperately. She froze as she spotted her mother, sitting on a nearby bench with the younger Severa and Morgan. Curiously enough, Cordelia's face was buried in her hands, and she seemed to be shaking with laughter.

Stunned, Morgan turned back to the emperor and his general. Felicia, too, appeared to be struggling not to laugh.

A look of dawning comprehension crept across Morgan's face, and upon seeing it, nearly everyone burst out laughing.

"That wasn't funny!" Morgan complained, though she, too, couldn't help but smile.

"My apologies. I could not resist," Yashiro chuckled. "Though really, it was Soren who reminded me of this particular obstacle."

Morgan whirled around to glare accusingly at Soren, but her anger dissipated almost immediately when Soren offered her a rare, genuine smile. "Centuries ago, Empress Sanaki demanded the same of Ike," he explained. "He didn't have much of a choice, and went along with it reluctantly. It seems I was right when I guessed that you'd be even more opposed to the idea."

"This is you trying to get me back for when I said you weren't that hard to read, isn't it?" Morgan stated more than asked. She rolled her eyes. "What if you were wrong? Maybe I _do_ want to be a noble."

"Then we'll go with my original suggestion," Yashiro said mildly. "Soren insisted that we should plan otherwise, but my offer was genuine. Would you lend me your sword, Morgan?"

"Umm… no thanks," Morgan declined hastily.

Yashiro smiled knowingly. "In that case, I ask that you remain by my side during the battle, so that I might pass your orders along," he suggested.

Morgan nodded gratefully, and stepped forward, handing her plans over to the emperor. "I'm sorry. They're a little bit messy, since I drew them up while we were flying," she apologized.

"They're legible enough. This seems reasonably straightforward, too," Yashiro said, inspecting the plans thoughtfully. "Though I'm not familiar with this location."

"It's about six hours north of here, traveling by Pegasi," Severa said.

"There's a stretch of about three miles where the mountains jut out further west," Morgan added.

"Pearlsand Pass," Nasir said, recognizing the description. "Have the Redeemers already crossed the Miscale?"

"That's the river we were following, right?" Morgan asked, glancing at Valent, who nodded. "Yeah. My first thought was to burn the southern bridges if we absolutely needed more time to prepare. They must have anticipated that, since they crossed the river in the north, despite the rougher terrain along the eastern riverbanks."

"And you're certain we can reach the pass before the Redeemers?" Yashiro asked.

"Definitely. Since they chose the more difficult route, they're moving slower than we originally anticipated," Morgan said. "If we leave now, we'll have plenty of time to prepare the battlefield."

"Good enough," Yashiro decided, rolling up the parchment. "I'll go notify Commander Kara. We can review the rest of the plans later."

* * *

A sudden, blaring note interrupted the mourning hymn of the freezing wind, echoing across the rough mountainsides of Wyverns' Crag. Standing atop one of the southern cliffs, Charon and Medea watched as the largest of their three ships began sliding away from the docks.

The two smaller ships beside it echoed the flagship's grand war horn, and they, too, pushed away from shore. Rows of oars protruded from both sides of each ship, dipping into the water in perfect unison and pushing the ships along. Any true sailor would have been baffled at the sight. The ships were clearly modeled after Crimean trading ships, larger vessels that were designed to carry cargo rather than passengers. Such ships could only sustain a skeleton crew, incapable of moving the ship on their own, yet the masts were barren.

"Are you comfortable carrying out this attack on your own?" Charon asked.

Medea smirked. "You mean without that cryptic old fool?" she scoffed. "Maybe his age finally got the better of him. I'll be just fine without him, thank you."

"You will not be entirely unopposed," Charon cautioned. "Time and time again, King Goldoa and his allies have proved their resourcefulness. They will act quickly, and when they do, your advantage will not be as great as it seems now."

Medea drew her scepter and eyed it reverently. "Then maybe I'll see Harmony and Symphony again," she said, unimpressed by Charon's warning. "If I'm particularly fortunate, they'll still be dragging that useless Laguz girl with them. I think dear Symphony would enjoy watching the last of his worthless villager friends die, don't you?"

The fate of one escaped villager hardly concerned Charon, who chose not to comment any further on the matter. "Then go to your troops. I will join you as soon as the final preparations are complete. Provided that you are still in control of the castle by then, of course."

"Oh, I will be," Medea promised.

Charon would have smiled, if only he were capable of doing so. Not that Medea would have been able to tell, for the mighty Redeemer remained outfitted in his armor, obscuring every inch of his body beneath the black, shining plates.

Plates that suddenly shone green instead, as a wave of mystical energy rolled over him. With a surprised grunt, Charon whirled around to face his attacker.

And there stood Relic, standing in the thick banks of snow, with his elegant red robe streaming behind him in the wind. Despite his age, the wizard stood tall and defiant, staring down his armored foe and brandishing a silver staff topped with a glowing green emerald.

"Relic? What do you think you're doing!?" Medea shrieked. She fumbled for her tome, but Charon stopped her quickly with an outstretched hand.

Then, to her surprise, Charon began to laugh. A low, rumbling laughter that seeped menacingly through his visor, sounding unnaturally deep and echoing in a bizarrely inhuman manner. "A Staff of Binding?" he chuckled. "You have the gall to challenge me here? And to try to stop _me_ from escaping? What has gotten into you, old friend?"

"You have betrayed us," Relic proclaimed boldly. Unwavering, he bound his staff to his sash and drew a tome instead. "Your purpose has changed. You seek only destruction."

"Oh? How did you come to _that_ conclusion?" Charon asked mockingly.

"You have been exposed. Charon is no more," Relic declared. With that, he invoked his tome, and a shining ray of fiery energy fell from the sky, enveloping Charon and forcing Medea aside.

"Traitor!" Medea spat, swiftly recovering her footing. She sent forth a brutal jet of scintillating light, only for it to be absorbed wholly by Relic's protective robes. She drew her scepter then, but as Relic's spell faded, she paused, looking to Charon for guidance.

Unscathed by the flames, Charon slowly reached for his visor. "Is this not the face you remember?" he teased, tugging it free.

Below, where there should have been his face, there was only a human skull, ebon and glass-like, as if it had been crafted from the flesh of eidolons. Golden pricks of light shone from deep within Charon's eye sockets, flashing as he met Relic's gaze.

"Lord Charon!?" Medea gasped, tripping as she stumbled backward, and landing on her behind.

Relic, on the other hand, didn't seem to be surprised at all. "Overcome by your spirits," he lamented.

"Hardly," Charon continued, speaking to Relic as if their sorceress companion wasn't present. "Oh, I'll admit that I've changed, over these long years. The sniveling, shortsighted son of a disgraced noble is naught but history… forgotten history, to most of our world. And surely, my purpose has been… refined. But don't you see, Relic? Tellius is far beyond any 'redemption.' We've brought this world to its knees, simply by exploiting old grudges and fears that lived on, carefully concealed. Mighty countries have fallen into disarray, crashing and burning as their trusted leaders squabble amongst themselves."

Relic shook his head slowly. "You are not Charon," he insisted.

"Who was Charon, without his spirits?" Charon retorted. "The Charon you knew was the product of man and spirits made one. Even if the threads of the man he was have frayed, even if the threads of the spirits have woven themselves deeper and deeper, it matters not. What exists now is greater than the worthless exile he once was, cast aside by his own people."

"You are a lich!" Relic roared in frustration. "A perversion of life!"

"Life _is_ the perversion, you senile fool!" Charon thundered. "Beorc and Laguz are all the same, lost and wandering through life without direction, leaving ruin and misery in their wake! And when that fails to satisfy them, they reach further, twisting the realm of the spirits, torturing the very foundation of their existence!"

"Relic's right…" Medea whispered, awed. "The spirits have overtaken you. You have… no. _Charon_ has finally pushed his powers too far."

"And I will push my power further still," the lich promised. "The goddess failed Tellius, centuries ago, when she was divided and battling against herself. I will not make the same mistake. I will surpass her. I will usurp her place in the world's order, and do as she should have done." He glared at the two Redeemers in turn. "Do you dare stand against me?"

Relic shifted his balance, bracing himself and readying another spell.

But Medea only tossed her head and laughed. "Stand against you?" she asked incredulously. "I've dreamed of this moment for years. For years I've prayed that such a power would arise, and offer this cold and miserable place the mercy it deserves!"

"Ever the broken fool," Relic groaned in disgust.

"You think me the fool?" Medea challenged gloatingly. "I'm not the one bending knee to a mere shadow, the supposed goddess who would abandon her unsuspecting faithful to be devoured! I'm not the one standing against a _true_ god!" She whirled back to face Charon, wearing a look of childish delight. "I am yours, Lord Charon, from now until the moment our work is done, the day that I might finally know peace," she proudly swore.

"Then go to your appointed task," Charon ordered.

As Medea reached for her pouch of warp powder, Relic seized his staff and pointed it at her. He was too slow, though, and Charon leapt forward, interposing himself between them. The spell splashed harmlessly over the lich, and before Relic could find another way to reach his target, Medea was gone.

"You do not deserve the powers you hold," Charon said, as if passing a sentence. Slowly, without any sense of urgency, he drew the Dominion Scepter, knowing that Relic had no time to escape, and no defense to offer.

Relic, who had expected that exact move from his adversary, only smiled cryptically.


	10. Chapter 6

**~ Chapter 6 ~**

Morgan took a deep breath, her eyes tightly shut as she savored the crisp mountain air. Then she opened her eyes and peered down at the Miscale River. The river flowed gently, and was so wide that she could barely see across it, even from her vantage point. The sandy riverbanks were remarkably light in color, shining pearly white under the morning sun.

The young tactician's eyes gradually followed the winding river north, until finally they settled upon the encroaching shadow. The Redeemers and their aberrant minions had formed a single long column and marched steadily south, though their pace had slowed to a snail's crawl.

"Do you think they've spotted us yet?"

Though she hadn't noticed Soren's approach, Morgan wasn't too surprised to find him standing right beside her. He, too, seemed to be studying their enemies intently. "Probably not. I think they might have spotted our blockade, though," she replied, gesturing towards where dozens of fallen trees closed off the eastern riverbanks.

"They're probably trying to decide how best to cut through it," Soren guessed.

"Well, their phantoms aren't about to swim across the river," Morgan pointed out cheerfully.

"You seem confident," Soren remarked in a leading tone.

Morgan's expression dimmed slightly as she turned to consider her friend and mentor. "I guess. Why?" she asked cautiously.

"It's good to be confident," came Soren's surprising answer. "Though their emperor is nominally in charge, Begnion's elite soldiers are clever enough to understand where their orders will really be coming from this battle."

Morgan instinctively looked back, first up the mountains, then down towards the slopes. She couldn't see any of the Pegasus knights postured above them, but she caught a glimpse of the defenders at each of the three traversable slopes.

"Their positions were well-chosen. Our enemies won't notice us until they're within our reach," Soren assured.

Morgan nodded, tacitly accepting the subtle compliment.

"Even then, this battle won't be easy. The phantoms have proven to be dangerous and resilient foes," Soren noted, though he didn't sound overly concerned.

Though her confidence remained unshaken, Morgan found her thoughts dwelling upon Nevassa and the many soldiers who had fallen against Extinction and the eidolon's ghastly horde, and a shadow briefly flickered across her face.

"But you've given the emperor every advantage he could have hoped for, as far as I can tell," Soren added, reading her emotions as clearly as if she had written them plainly on her face.

"Thanks," Morgan said, grateful for the support. Again, she glanced towards the Redeemers, who appeared to be only minutes away from reaching them and the blockade.

"We should fall back, before they spot us," Soren suggested.

Morgan nodded, but just before she turned away, a small flicker caught her attention. "Wait, Soren," she said. She pointed across the river. "I think I saw something moving."

"In those woods?" Soren asked, watching the woods closely. They both stared silently for nearly a full minute.

"I guess I was mistaken," Morgan admitted, and she and Soren pulled away from the cliff, marching towards where Yashiro was waiting, along with Felicia and Harmony.

"Even if you _did_ see something, I doubt it matters," Soren reminded. "It can't be wyverns or another Redeemer force. Valent would have spotted them for sure. It's probably just some local fishermen, or someone going for a walk through the woods."

"True," Morgan conceded. With one last check to make sure all her weapons were at hand, Morgan moved to the emperor's side, waiting patiently for the first sounds of battle.

* * *

Concealed behind the fallen trees, Cordelia watched carefully as Redeemers nervously approached the blockade, counting the archers among them. "Four," she said to Severa, who was fidgeting impatiently beside her.

"Only? This'll be easy," Severa said dismissively. "I'll take the two on the right."

"Keep your shield between you and their bows," Cordelia warned.

"I know, I know," Severa said petulantly. She peeked through the blockades, though her position unfortunately had a far more restricted view. "On five?" she guessed, glancing at Iris, who only shrugged sleepily.

She raised her free hand and began counting silently, until she reached five. "Now!" she cried.

Several of the Redeemers cried out in surprise as two translucent prisms of golden light materialized, intersecting each other and covering the crude blockade. One of the archers kept his head about him, and loosed an arrow towards the source of the voice, but the projectile deflected off the light rune harmlessly.

The sound of rushing wind was the only warning they received before Cordelia descended in their midst, wielding her lance in her left hand and interposing her shield between her and three of the archer. Though her aim wasn't perfect, it was good enough, and the leftmost archer slumped to the ground as Cordelia withdrew, deflecting the retaliatory volley of arrows with relative ease.

As soon as they finished strengthening the magical barrier, Severa and Iris soared over the blockade, too. The latter glided away, scaling the cliffs and seeking cover, but Severa, like her mother, dove eagerly into the midst of their enemies and charging towards the archers while they had their backs turned. Her lance tore through their meager leather armor, and two more of them collapsed while Cordelia finished the final bowman with one of her javelins.

The Redeemers scattered, all semblance of order lost as sounds of battle erupted behind them, too. Cordelia, ever the disciplined soldier, flew up high and out of reach of any archers they might have missed before setting off.

But Severa wasn't quite satisfied. Their first blows had wreaked havoc among the enemy vanguard, but with only four foes defeated in total, they had only inflicted minimal damage. Instead of flying straight up as Cordelia had done, Severa crept upwards slowly and exchanged her lance for a javelin.

One of the Redeemers, a mage, saw her pulling away and leveled his tome at her. Lightning arced outwards and high into the sky, missing Severa and her steed by a wide margin. The mage growled in annoyance and readied another spell, not realizing that he had marked himself perfectly for his intended target.

Severa's aim wasn't quite perfect either, and her javelin struck higher than she had hoped, impaling the Redeemer just over his heart. Still, it was enough to take the mage out of the fight, and the victorious lancer punched the air triumphantly as she turned and soared away.

Or tried to.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Catria lurched and shook, screeching in pain and nearly throwing her rider from her back. Startled, Severa grabbed desperately for the reins, losing her grip on her lance and upsetting her mount's balance even further. "Easy, girl!" she called, deftly catching Passion in her right hand.

The Pegasus steadied herself somewhat, and Severa began pulling herself astride again, all the while wondering what had gotten into her normally unshakeable companion. As she did, she spotted a flicker of motion out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively, she loosened her grip on the reins, slipping down further and spinning a full circle.

Her lance slapped noisily against a pair of matching, curved blades, deflecting them wide and sending their phantom wielder plummeting back down to the hard ground below. The white-armored phantom recovered gracefully, landing neatly and glaring up at its flailing victim, golden pricks of light shining out from its skull-like visor. It brandished its blades menacingly, and Severa vaguely noticed that the tip of one blade was stained crimson.

"Fly higher!" Severa cried out desperately as the phantom crouched, readying itself for another jump. Her loyal Pegasus obeyed, climbing skyward despite the blood dripping from her wounded flank, but the phantom sprang up anyways, twisting into a deadly spiral and easily closing the twenty-foot gap.

Thinking quickly, Severa swung on the reins. The sudden jerking motion brought her swinging around her Pegasus. She then swept her weapon outwards, turning one of the phantom's blades aside and leaving a wide opening. Backed by her momentum and sturdy darksteel boots, she kicked out forcefully, hammering a large dent into the phantom's chest.

The phantom fell downwards again, but not before countering with its other sword. The blade slid up against Severa's faulds before finding a seam at her waist, and biting deep into her hip. Blood began trickling down her side, too, as she struggled painfully to climb into her saddle.

A javelin darted past her as Cordelia rejoined the fray, pinning the phantom to the ground before it could recover its footing and jump again. Two more phantoms prepared to attack, but Cordelia was quick to intercept, meeting one head-on with her lance and shoving it into the other. They tumbled down in a heap, landing beside the first phantom, and by the time they untangled themselves, both Pegasi were far out of reach.

But the deadly phantoms could not be shaken. The inhuman constructs could not feel anger, disappointment, or frustration, and as soon as they understood that the wounded Pegasus and her rider had escaped, they turned their attention to the mountain, to where the rest of their equally relentless allies were pressing up the slopes.

* * *

"Are you alright, Severa?" Cordelia asked urgently, drifting up aside her daughter and brandishing a healing staff.

Severa shook her head violently as soon as she saw her mother's intent. "Help her first," she begged tiredly, gently stroking her Pegasus's mane.

The warm, healing light took ahold of the Pegasus, mending the vicious wound and steadying her flight. Then Cordelia shifted her staff upward, partially mending the gash in Severa's side, too.

Finally catching her breath, Severa tried to ignore the persistent stinging, sore sensation. "Thanks," she said reluctantly, silently resigning herself to a well-earned lecture. Cordelia only drifted closer, though, and began scrutinizing the wound carefully. "I'm alright," Severa insisted, trying and failing to hide her embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," Cordelia apologized, taking Severa entirely off-guard.

" _You're_ sorry?" Severa echoed incredulously.

"It still hurts, doesn't it? I'm not nearly as good with magic as your sister," Cordelia explained. "Come on. Let's have her take a look at it."

"Later," Severa insisted.

"If you say so," Cordelia said nonchalantly, knowing her daughter well enough to know that a direct argument would prove futile. "I think Catria could use a bit more healing, though, since this battle is only just beginning. And we're headed that way, anyways."

Severa stared suspiciously at her mother, who only smiled knowingly. "Fine," Severa finally relented. Together, the two of them soared of towards the nearby cliff where Morgan awaited them.

* * *

As the first of the phantoms began advancing up the slope, Owain, who had taken point with his cousin, turned to alert their allies. "The endless armies of darkness approach!" he called out.

"They're coming," Lucina translated. "And they aren't endless, either," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Oh good. I was beginning to worry," Symphony commented wryly.

"Worry? About these lifeless heaps of scrap metal?" Valent scoffed.

"How many are there?" one of Begnion's knights asked. She stood beside the brash hawk with her lance ready, along with five more of her comrades who were similarly dismounted. Their Pegasi waited a safe distance away, neighing nervously at the footsteps of the approaching phantoms.

"Nine, I think? No wait, that's just one with two heads," Owain counted aloud. "Eight?"

"Eleven, and three Beorc," Carina corrected with a sigh, as Valent howled with laughter. The Begnion Pegasus knights did not find Owain's mistake nearly as humorous and remained silent, awaiting confirmation.

"Fourteen," Lucina agreed. "Though it looks like more might be headed this way, soon. Remember, we'll hold them here as we can, then we retreat further up the mountain."

Begnion's knights nodded in unison, but Valent grinned mischievously. "What's this 'retreat' that you speak of?"

"My cousin speaks of the glorious moment to come when our enemies will flee before our unbridled wrath!" Owain boomed.

"Hah!" Valent laughed.

Symphony only rolled his eyes. Gallia's queen seemed to be familiar with the hawk prince's antics, and smiled briefly. The Begnion troops, on the other hand, looked quite shocked.

"Ignore them," Lucina suggested quietly, trying to hide her own smile. She turned her attention back to the phantoms, measuring their approach. "Thirty seconds," she announced.

With their enemies so close, Carina shapeshifted, falling to all fours in the form of a large feline.

"Wish old Nasir had more of those Laguz gems," Valent grumbled, similarly transforming.

"I'm sure he's wishing the same," Lucina said absently, remembering that Morgan had assigned Nasir and his great-grandson to wait further up the cliffs, conserving their strength.

Their conversation ended then as the phantoms reached them at last, with a towering, axe-bearing, golden-armored monstrosity leading the charge, flanked by a pair of its slender, dual-wielding allies. Owain fell back a step, and moved to the left side of the narrow pass, drawing one of the smaller phantoms to him right away, though he was almost immediately outmatched by the white-armored phantom's blinding speed and relentless attack routines.

Lucina wavered indecisively, unsure of which of the remaining phantoms to challenge. The larger phantom would prove an easier battle for her, she knew, though she wasn't sure if any of the others were up to battling the lithe and deadly white-armored construct.

As she struggled to make up her mind, Symphony preempted her, slipping past her and meeting the smaller phantom head on. A metallic ring filled the air as his sickles met his opponent's matching swords in a wild flurry of parries and counters.

Symphony's brave maneuver had left him grossly overextended, and the larger phantom quickly moved to flank him, raising its axe. Seeing that her ally was vulnerable, Lucina rushed forward to intercept the second phantom.

But to her dismay, Symphony moved further from her, weaving past his foe and flipping his weapons into a reverse spiral, cutting down the Redeemer swordsman standing behind the smaller phantom before assembling his sickles back into a dual-bladed scythe. The newly extended weapon reached past the phantom's shorter blades, jabbing fiercely into its chest and knocking it to the ground.

Another phantom approached Symphony then, and as he whirled away to face his new attacker, Carina pounced upon the downed construct, savagely tearing it to pieces. Behind her, Lucina easily sidestepped her opponent's massive axe, then neatly disposed of her foe with a measured, forceful thrust. She then turned and looked to her allies, and saw that Owain was sorely pressed by another of the dual-wielding phantoms. She began moving towards her cousin's side, but after only a few steps, a warning cry came from behind, stopping her dead in her tracks.

"They can climb!" one of Begnion's riders called. As if to reinforce her point, she then flung a javelin over Lucina's head.

Another phantom, silver and apparently unarmed save for its heavy fists, had dug its gauntlets into the stone cliff side and was trying to pull itself over Owain's opponent. The Begnion knight's javelin embedded itself in the phantom's chest, knocking it down, where it began pulsing with blue flames.

"Get back!" Symphony warned, extracting himself quickly from his Beorc foe to face the silver phantom instead. The phantom rallied gamely, throwing rapid flaming punches at the nimble warrior.

Owain recognized that particular phantom at once, and backed away fearfully. His white-armored opponent saw its apparent advantage and charged, inadvertently moving past Lucina and leaving its side exposed. Falchion plunged through its metal plate, nearly tearing the construct in two.

Symphony stumbled past a moment later, and another pair of javelins soared overhead, pelting the silver phantom as it continued to burn. "Explode, damn you," Symphony growled.

As if in answer to his plea, a magical sphere of light dropped atop the phantom, temporarily blinding everyone nearby. There was a tumultuous crashing noise, Lucina, Owain, and Symphony were showered with fragments of molten metal. When the light cleared, pieces of silver armor were scattered along the pass, and the two nearest phantoms had been blown apart.

Iris drifted down towards them, horrified at the carnage she had inadvertently caused. One of the phantoms sensed her drawing near and looked up, leering at her. The timid Laguz recoiled at the sight, retreating to a safe distance. "Symphony!" she called.

Symphony didn't hear or notice her at first. Having expected the explosion, he had swept up his coat in time, shielding his face and warding off the worst of the burns. "You two alright?" he called out, hoping that Lucina and Owain, the two others standing closest, had escaped similarly unscathed.

But the two Ylisseans weren't nearly as fortunate. Owain moaned in pain as he tried to brush the flecks of metal from his exposed face and arms. Lucina was similarly injured, but hid her painful wince, noticing immediately that a few burns were the least of their troubles.

One of the fallen golden phantoms was staggering back to its feet. One of its arms and half of its helmet had been melted by the devastating blast, but they had simply reshaped themselves into a crude, sharp spike. A single golden prick of flame leered out at them eerily from the remaining half of the phantom's visor, and the ragged construct began to stalk forward once more. A second silver phantom marched up the hill behind it, leading several more of its dual-wielding brethren.

"Fall back!" Lucina cried, understanding that they couldn't fight the silver phantoms in such close quarters.

Valent had other ideas, though. The hawk drifted above them, gripping one of the silver phantoms tightly in his talons, scratching and raking at it disinterestedly as he watched the battle below. "Hey, think you can manage another one of those pretty little explosions?" he called to Iris.

"Are… are you talking to me?" Iris asked.

"Well, I'm definitely not talking to this nasty fellow," Valent said, grinning broadly. The phantom continued to flail futilely. "Yes or no? Tell me quick, I can't stay shifted much longer."

"Umm… yes, I think," Iris replied.

"Good enough," Valent declared. "Go wild." With that, he tossed the wriggling, ragged phantom down to crash into the other silver phantom below.

Catching on, Iris lifted her tome and sent forth another sphere of light, finishing off the wounded phantom. This time, everyone was clear of the explosion, and only other phantoms were caught in the swirling flames. More pressed up the slopes soon after, but by then, Lucina and the others were all away to safety.

* * *

Once the light runes appeared, forestalling any attempts to push through the narrow pass, Morgan, Soren, Yashiro, and Harmony advanced together to the edge of the cliff, looking out over the trapped Redeemers and phantoms below. Pegasus knights began circling overhead, revealing themselves to their enemies while drawing attention away from the four casters.

Then the magical barrage began. Sizzling waves of fire, crackling bolts of lightning, and whirling cyclones tore through the Redeemers and their phantoms, seeking out the archers in particular. The bombardment only slowed when Begnion's riders joined the fray, gracefully swooping in and out of battle, picking off their weakened enemies, one after another.

At first, it looked as if their plan was proceeding flawlessly, and for a brief moment, Morgan dared to hope that her many precautions had been unnecessary. Those hopes quickly faded when Morgan made the same sickening discovery her sister had, and the battle abruptly turned against them. The phantoms rallied almost immediately, and several of the slender, white-armored phantoms leapt up, taking the vulnerable Pegasus knights by surprise and cutting them down.

"No!" Yashiro cried. Before Morgan could stop him, he instinctively directed his next spell towards the phantoms instead. The concussive blast was perfectly placed, clearing the air below the fleeing Pegasi. A bolt of lightning followed as Harmony finished off one of the fallen phantoms.

But in their efforts to aid the Pegasus knights, they had left the Redeemer archers an opening. Several of them had been slain by the opening salvo, but many had dove away seeking cover, reemerging now that they could safely retaliate.

"Look out!" Morgan cried, tackling Yashiro to the ground. Arrows sailed harmlessly over their heads as a crouching Felicia pulled them both further back.

With his three allies distracted, Soren was quickly forced away from the cliff, too, leaving the archers free to strike at the Pegasi instead, killing several before they could withdraw. "The archers! Focus on keeping their archers at bay!" Soren urged.

Morgan clambered to her feet and raised her tome, lobbing her spells blindly over the cliff and into the throng below. She tried her best to remember where the archers had been, and though she couldn't be certain whether she was hitting her intended targets, the stream of arrows slowed, especially when Soren and Yashiro joined in a moment later. The Pegasus knights then reengaged, though this time, they tried to maintain a safe distance from the more agile phantoms. Morgan moved forward as well, though Soren was quick to stop her.

"Wait," Soren commanded, grasping the younger tactician's arm tightly to keep her from moving out into the open. Ignoring Morgan's protests, he watched carefully as Begnion's Pegasus knights darted back and forth valiantly, doing their best to avoid the barrage of stinging arrows. Finally, when it appeared as if the remaining archers were entirely focused on the Pegasi, Soren gave a slight nod. "Finish them off," he instructed coolly, releasing Morgan and advancing to the edge of the cliff once more.

Of the remaining bowmen, only a handful noticed the four spell casters returning to the battle, and none reacted in time. Magic scoured the battlefield from above, eliminating the last of the archers one by one and crippling several phantoms.

With the enemy archers dispatched, Begnion's riders grew bolder, flying through their enemy ranks with seeming impunity. Several more were slain by the phantoms, but the elite Pegasus knights fought on with confidence, whittling away slowly at the larger, heavier phantoms and assailing their more dangerous foes with javelins from a safe distance. The resilient constructs fought on fearlessly, holding their ground as best they could, but their numbers gradually began to dwindle.

Once she became convinced that the Pegasus knights were winning, Morgan turned her attention to the southern slopes, privately glad for a legitimate excuse to look away from the gruesome scene. But even as she wondered how much time she and her companions would have before the lower cliffs were lost, a massive explosion shook the air. Flames and magical light intermingled, flaring out over the narrow pass. "Lucina!" Morgan gasped. Without a word to her companions, she sprinted towards the commotion.

Then the source of the explosion became clear as a silver phantom tumbled down, seemingly falling out of the sky. Morgan looked up just in time for Iris to unleash her spell, causing another vicious blast. Desperately, the young tactician looked further up the slopes, and to her relief, she soon spotted her friends emerging. They looked rather worn, but still very much alive, and several Pegasi knights moved to reinforce them immediately.

Two more Pegasi riders flew past Begnion's knights, though Morgan didn't notice either of them until they landed at her side.

"Mom! Severa!" Morgan exclaimed.

"The enemy is withdrawing from our blockade," Cordelia reported promptly. "They aren't waiting for the runes to fall."

Morgan was barely listening, though, for Severa's Pegasus walked with a noticeable limp.

"I got too close to one of the phantoms," Severa explained ruefully. "Morgan, could you…"

Before she could finish her sentence, Morgan had already drawn her staff. "There you go," Morgan said gently, prodding Catria gently with the staff. Severa's stiff movements hadn't slipped by her, either, and as soon as Catria's gait straightened, Morgan turned her staff up towards her sister instead.

"Thanks," Severa said grudgingly, as the pain in her hip faded.

"You're welcome. Let's go get the others – we need to be away from here before the phantoms overrun us," Morgan decided.

"It looks like we're holding our own right now," Cordelia pointed out, though her tone was far from argumentative, and she gently guided her Pegasus off the ground, ready to follow Morgan's lead.

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" Morgan agreed, accepting a hand from Severa and climbing up behind her. "Still, it doesn't hurt to be careful. They've surprised us too many times already."

To her dismay, she was proven right almost immediately after, when they returned to the emperor's side.

Soren, Harmony, and Yashiro were all standing up at the cliff, though now their spells were aimed directly downwards, almost parallel to the wall. "Morgan, we have to pull back. We can't hold this cliff much longer," Soren called as soon as he heard her approach. "Look."

Morgan dismounted quickly and raced to his side, peering over the edge. "They can climb!?" she gasped in horror, as she saw the phantoms slowly scaling the steep cliff face. Magically conjured fire, lightning, and wind battered them back down, but with more and more attempting the climb, the metallic swarm was slowly inching its way up.

"I've never seen them do such a thing before," Harmony apologized, firing off another bolt. Between the four of them, her magic was the weakest, and only stunned her target momentarily. Seconds later, another phantom scrambled past, reaching the top. With a growl of frustration, Harmony cast her expended tome aside, drawing her scimitar.

Morgan initially went for her tome, but quickly changed her mind and drew her swords instead as more phantoms reached them. "Let me!" she called to Yashiro and Soren. Felicia raced forward to help, but Morgan interrupted her quickly. "General, signal the Pegasus knights to bring us to safety."

Almost immediately, Morgan began to regret her orders. Felicia obediently backed away, waving up towards the nearest Pegasus knights and leaving the young tactician flanked by two phantoms. One pressed her back with its matching curved blades, while the other cautiously stepped to the side, holding its own sword slack at its side as it leveled its free hand at her, its gauntlet wreathed in golden flames.

Soren reacted quickly, blasting the magic-wielding phantom off of its feet. The prone phantom, far from beaten, promptly rolled over onto its belly and thrust its gauntlet forward, flinging a golden, fiery orb at Morgan. Her robes absorbed most of the spell's impact, but the sudden heatwave left Morgan disoriented. Dazed, she began parrying wildly in hopes of keeping the other phantom from overwhelming her.

A strong hand grasped her shoulder and tugged her back, nearly throwing her to the ground. Morgan nearly cried out as she stumbled away, until she realized that it was only her sister.

"Get back!" Severa barked, taking her younger sister's place and confronting their duel-wielding foe. The other phantom leapt back to its feet, but Cordelia soared past, ramming it neatly with her lance and dragging it over the edge.

With her long reach, Severa drove the phantom back aggressively, trying to force it from the cliff. As she did, though, three more phantoms emerged over the edge – two like the one she was battling, with slender frames and twin blades, and one larger golden one with a poleaxe.

Morgan noticed her sister's predicament immediately. "Soren, stop them!" she pleaded, swinging Alondite through the air. Soren launched a gust in the same direction, blowing the two lighter phantoms off the cliff as they tried to climb up. The spell battered the larger phantom, too, and Alondite's conjured wave tore into the construct, but neither was enough to push it away.

Desperate to keep Severa from being flanked, Morgan charged at the remaining phantom. She swept both her blades outward in a wide spin, leading with Alondite. Another conjured wave of energy struck the phantom, throwing it off balance, and Morgan threw her weight behind Eternity, hoping to knock the phantom aside.

Instead, Eternity flashed with glistening sapphire flames, cutting through the phantom's metallic plate armor with ease. Golden flames burst outward, and the upper half of the lifeless armor tumbled over the cliff.

Morgan didn't waste any time gloating, and turned to help her sister, but her daring move had already bought Severa all the time she needed. With one final thrust, Severa toppled the remaining phantom, forcefully shoving it from the cliff. "Nice work," the lancer remarked breathlessly.

"You too. Now let's get out of here," Morgan said, watching as several Pegasus knights landed nearby.

The two sisters raced over to their Pegasus, and by the time more phantoms arrived, the lower cliffs were completely deserted.

* * *

Once they were away from the fighting and confusion, the battle began to look far more promising. Fallen phantoms and Redeemers were scattered across the mountainside, concentrated in particular around the narrow passes of the slopes, where Lucina had managed to delay them. Less than a third of the phantoms remained, scattered, isolated, and vulnerable.

The few surviving Redeemers had retreated and regrouped at the base of the mountain, though they seemed at a complete loss. Even with the light runes gone, they couldn't hope to cut through the fallen trees before the Begnion Holy Guard was upon them, nor could they escape back to the north. The Goldoans had joined the fray now, attacking where their enemies were most concentrated. The rout was nearly complete.

"Focus on the constructs. Ignore their Beorc allies for now," Yashiro instructed one of his messengers, repeating Morgan's orders. "Once the last of the constructs are destroyed, we'll regroup and capture the Redeemers."

"Understood, Your Majesty," the Pegasus knight confirmed, inclining her head deferentially. She set off to relay the orders, with only the briefest glance at Morgan, who was still eyeing the distant Redeemers.

"What's next?" Yashiro asked, as soon as his messenger was out of earshot. "Should we rejoin the battle, too?"

"We could, but it seems unnecessary," Soren answered. "We may be better off waiting until we're really needed."

"What do you think, Morgan?" Yashiro prompted.

"Hmm?" Morgan asked, stirring at the sound of her name, though she clearly hadn't been following their conversation. "Oh, sorry. I was trying to keep an eye on Prince Valent and his friends. Umm… maybe we should try to retrieve them," she suggested nervously.

Her companions followed her gaze to the west, and sure enough, three large hawks were circling above the Redeemers. As they watched, the three hawks took turns diving at and scattering the seemingly defenseless Redeemers. Unfortunately, the Redeemers seemed to be catching on to their game and arranging themselves into defensive formations.

"What is that idiot doing!?" Severa fumed.

"One of them is missing. Maybe Prince Valent isn't with them," Morgan suggested halfheartedly, though she was fairly certain that the prince was at the center of the ill-advised game. Severa turned to stare at her sister, eyes wide with disbelief. "Never mind," Morgan said quickly, conceding the point.

"We'd better help him, before he gets himself killed," Severa grumbled.

"We can send someone to fetch them," Yashiro offered.

Morgan shook her head. "Severa and I will go," she decided. "Emperor Yashiro, you should wait here in case something happens and the Pegasus knights need further instructions."

"Wait, I'm coming too," Cordelia said.

"Alright," Morgan agreed readily. "Let's go, Severa."

It was only after the two Pegasi and their riders soared away that Soren realized something wasn't quite right. "Emperor, look over there," he said suddenly, pointing towards one of the minor skirmishes nearby.

Yashiro obeyed, as did Felicia, who spotted what Soren was referring to first. "Wait… aren't those our hawks?" she asked, recognizing the four untransformed Laguz. She looked questioningly at Soren, then at her husband when the tactician didn't have an answer for her.

"But if that's Prince Valent and his friends… who are the other three hawks?" Yashiro asked, mystified.

* * *

"Valent! What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Severa hollered, diving towards the hawks. Only then did she and Morgan notice that girl sitting astride the smallest of the three Laguz.

The mysterious rider looked up at them curiously, her youthful face framed by her messily-cropped hair, which bore a silvery shade remarkably similar to Severa's.

"She looks like she could be your sister," Morgan muttered.

"She _does_ look a bit like you, doesn't she?" Severa whispered back.

The girl tapped her Laguz mount's wing gently. It must have been a signal of some sort, for the hawk shot up, followed shortly by the other two Laguz, and they began circling the two Pegasi. "Who are you? You don't look like Begnion Pegasus knights," she remarked, glaring at Severa icily. Though her sudden scowl wasn't the slightest bit intimidating, her hostile tone was hard to miss.

"What's it to you?" Severa shot back, unafraid.

"Severa, wait," Morgan interrupted quickly, hoping to forestall an argument. "We're not part of the Begnion Holy Guard, but we came here with them and Emperor Yashiro," she explained.

"Did you, now?" the silver-haired girl asked suspiciously. She glanced at Cordelia, whose armor closely resembled the armor worn by Begnion's Pegasus knights. Then she turned back to Morgan. "Then why aren't you with them now? What are you…" she began. Her voice trailed off, though, and her eyes went wide as she stared at Morgan.

Morgan met the girl's surprised stare curiously, unsure of what to say. Finally, Cordelia spoke up. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "We mistook you for our allies. We were separated during the battle," she explained tactfully.

"Allies? Valent?" the girl asked. "As in, Prince Valent of Phoenicis?" The three hawks seemed to tense up as she spoke, and it seemed as if their uneven flight had become more excitable.

"Yeah. Prince Valent and a few of his friends have been traveling with us," Morgan said cautiously. As she spoke, her fingers inched closer to her tome, just in case the girl and her Laguz friends bore a grudge against the Phoenician prince.

She needn't have worried. "Hah! I should've known Val would be out here, getting himself into trouble," the silver-haired girl laughed gleefully. "I guess that makes you three the foreigners that we heard about. The ones who showed up in Kilvas when that wretched Lister was stirring up trouble, right?"

Upon hearing the girl's familiar tone when speaking of Valent, Morgan relaxed visibly. "Yeah. That was us. Well, us and our friends," she confirmed.

"And then you decided to swing by Daein too, when some killer monster was on the loose there, eh?" she added brightly. "Was that Val's idea? That sounds like something he'd come up with."

Morgan frowned. "How did you know we were in Daein?" she asked suspiciously.

But the girl was on longer paying her, or the Pegasi, any attention. Her eyes were fixated upon the Redeemers once more. "Oops. Looks like our prey's getting away. We'll talk after, okay?"

Morgan glanced downward too. The surviving Redeemers had assumed defense formations and were slowly marching north, presumably back towards their fortress. "Don't worry. Begnion's forces will catch up to us soon, once they're finished with the phantoms," Morgan assured.

"All the more reason for us to end this silly chase first," the girl replied with a roguish grin. "May as well get the most out of those Laguz gems we used. Right, sweetie?" The last bit was directed to the hawk she was riding on, who let out a sharp cry of approval. "Sorry. They don't like speaking while shifted, especially in front of Beorc. They're pretty sensitive about how their voices change," the girl explained offhandedly.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense," Morgan said. "Say, umm…"

"Caelia," the girl supplied helpfully.

"Nice to meet you, Caelia. I'm Morgan. This is my sister, Severa, and… umm… Cordelia," Morgan introduced quickly. "Caelia, if you and your friends determined to fight the Redeemers here, would you mind letting us help?"

"Sure, if you think you can keep up," Caelia agreed. She reached into the folds of her cloak and produced an elegant double-edged knife of dark, burnished metal. "Let's go, Kyrie."

* * *

"The Laguz are coming back!"

"Look out!"

Morgan found the Redeemers' panicked cries quite gratifying, especially when she added to the chaos by lobbing a large fireball into their midst. She had been careful to keep her spell away from the three Laguz, but Caelia and her hawk fearlessly dove through the flames. One swordsman who had been fleeing the magical wildfire felt a sharp sting in his back. He stiffened, then collapsed lifelessly, while one of his companions cried out in terror as the Laguz seized him and carried him high up in the air. The remaining two hawks chose their targets more carefully, swooping down on the fleeing Redeemers who were foolish enough to separate themselves from their allies.

Never content to be second-best, Severa tightened her grip on her lance. "Hold on tight, Morgan. We're going in," she declared.

"What? No, wait!" Morgan protested, catching on a moment too late.

At Severa's urging, their Pegasus dived into the fray, gliding through the dissipating flames. The lancer quickly cut three of the soldiers down before the rest broke ranks, fleeing every which way.

Her sister hadn't had time to change weapons, and chanced another fireball, striking a nearby mage squarely in the face. "Too close!" Morgan cried out, for the resulting explosion was far too close for comfort.

"Sorry," Severa said, gritting her teeth as she pulled up slightly, exchanging her lance for a javelin. At the same time, Morgan swapped her tome for Alondite and sent a wave of raw energy flying into a heavily armored soldier, shearing through the man's armor. By the time they completed the pass, flying past Cordelia as she swept by the other way, less than twenty of the Redeemers remained standing.

Caelia dropped down from her mount, barring the past of the Redeemer captain, a lightly armored swordsman with a particularly fine blade. "Going somewhere?" she asked, wearing a cocky smile.

"Get out of my way!" the swordsman barked.

"Or what?" Caelia challenged mockingly.

The Redeemer brandished his sword and stood his ground, but his composure evaporated quickly when one of his dead comrades dropped to the ground in front of him. He glanced up fearfully in time to see the smallest hawk Laguz staring at him beadily.

"You can spare the idle threats," Caelia informed him. "I saw what you and your men did to those poor farmers. Did they 'get in your way', too?" She began advancing towards the Redeemer, who began backing away nervously. "Why hesitate now? Go on. Run me through," she teased, spreading her arms wide and leaving herself apparently vulnerable.

With a snarl, the Redeemer lunged forward, leading with his sword. He never even got close to his target, for Caelia simply hopped back and flung a handful of white, fine-grained sand into his face, blinding him. He slashed his sword wildly, but his cunning adversary simply weaved past his outstretched blade, slicing his exposed wrist and disarming him.

"Captain!" two of his men cried, as their leader collapsed, howling in agony. They drew their axes and charged, but Morgan struck first, blasting them aside with a fire spell. One threw himself to the ground, rolling and batting frantically at the flames, while the other was engulfed by a flurry of brown feathers as the smallest of the hawks finished him off.

"Anyone else care to keep fighting?" Caelia invited cheerily. "I hear Begnion's forces are here and ready to accept your surrender, but if you'd rather be torn to pieces, just keep those weapons raised high."

Some of the Redeemers glared at her defiantly, but Cordelia and Severa hefted their javelins, and the three hawk Laguz began circling closer. That proved to be the end of any resistance, and the surviving cultists dropped their weapons reluctantly, awaiting their fate.


	11. Chapter 7

**~ Chapter 7 ~**

Once the cultists surrendered, the three hawk Laguz reverted to their humanoid forms. The larger two appeared to be twin brothers, with ragged blond hair and tanned skin stretched tightly over their muscular frames. The two were even dressed identically: topless, with long and baggy shorts cut from dark fabric, stretching just past their knees. The smaller hawk became a small, brown-haired female with the same smooth, tanned complexion as her male brethren.

With their help, the Redeemers were soon bound and led away from their fallen weapons. "We're showing you more mercy than you murderers deserve. Don't get us any reason to regret it," Caelia warned menacingly.

"You call this mercy? Turning us over to Begnion to be executed?" one of the Redeemers grumbled.

"If a fair trial isn't good enough for you, and you'd rather die choking on your innards, that can be arranged," one of the twins offered, smiling pleasantly at the outspoken Redeemer.

The offender quailed and fell silent, and there were no further complaints from him or any of his captured comrades.

Satisfied that their captives had been properly subdued, Morgan looked to the east and quickly saw that the Begnion riders were beginning to regroup. The lack of urgency in their movements told the young tactician all that she needed to know: the phantoms had been eradicated, and Begnion's army would be joining them shortly. Pleased, Morgan retrieved her mirror from her satchel and stepped away from her companions.

"Hello, Dad," she greeted brightly when her father's face appeared in her mirror.

"Hello, Morgan. Did you already speak with Actaeus?" Robin asked.

"Huh? Who's Actaeus?" Morgan asked, puzzled.

"Archmage Actaeus of Begnion's Imperial Court," Robin replied. When he saw Morgan's blank look, he shook his head and pressed on. "Never mind that right now. What's happened?"

"Nothing too serious," Morgan said nonchalantly. "I just wanted to let you know that the battle's over."

"That's good to hear," Robin said gratefully. Though he looked relieved, Morgan thought she noticed a trace of worry in his smile.

But before she could question him about it, she was joined abruptly by Caelia, who peered over her shoulder curiously. "Are you talking to a mirror?" the silver-haired girl asked curiously.

"Sort of. It lets me talk with whoever's holding the other mirror," Morgan tried to explain. She then turned back to her father. "Dad, are you alright? You seem kind of nervous."

"Well, I have some news for you. Some good, some bad," Robin began shakily.

"Start with the good news," Severa instructed, appearing over Morgan's other shoulder as she joined their conversation. "We've had enough bad news for a lifetime, I think."

Robin smiled obligingly at his oldest daughter. "Fair enough. Calamity has been defeated," he said.

"Really?" Morgan asked enthusiastically. "Did Uncle Chrom finally track him down? Or did the eidolon return to Ylisstol?"

"Neither," Robin replied. "It turns out Calamity fled north after his doppelganger led Chrom and the others west towards Plegia. I suppose Calamity must have thought Ferox to be more vulnerable, only he ran straight into Khan Basilio and the Feroxi border guard."

"Ouch," Morgan commented, grinning.

"That sums it up quite well," Robin agreed. "Ferox only lost a handful of soldiers in putting the beast down. It sounds like Calamity wasn't nearly as powerful as the two dire eidolons who had been empowered by the Redeemers."

"And Ferox has its own resident dragon, too," Severa added. "If Nowi was there, that probably made things a little easier."

"She was, it sounds like. Anyways, Ferox sent delegates to Ylisstol to ask us about the incursion. When they heard the full story, they decided to send us some help, too. Archmage Actaeus came by Nasir's manor with some news for the emperor, and I asked him to return to Begnion and reopen the gateway. He should be headed your way now," Robin explained.

"With reinforcements from Ferox? Nice!" Morgan cheered. Her eyes strayed to where Begnion's Holy Guard began touching down around the captured Redeemers. Severa turned towards them as well, searching for any sign of Lucina and Owain.

"So, what's the bad news, then?" Caelia prompted impatiently, when it looked to her as if Severa and Morgan weren't about to ask.

"Melior will soon be besieged," Robin announced grimly.

His words didn't register at first, but when they did, Morgan and Severa both stared at their father in horror. "Melior?" Morgan gasped.

"Yes. The Redeemers approach Crimea from the north, by sea," an unfamiliar, wizened voice answered from somewhere behind them.

Severa, Morgan, and Caelia all spun to see an old man approaching. Their visitor was clad in an elegant robe of luxurious white silk. His face was cleanly shaven, and his thinning hair had been neatly groomed. Despite his advanced age, the man carried himself with the carefully measured poise of a nobleman.

"Archmage Actaeus of Begnion," he introduced himself. "Is the emperor with you, young Morgan?"

"He is now. Hello, Actaeus," Yashiro replied, joining them.

A fairly large entourage accompanied the emperor, and Morgan was relieved to see Lucina among them. The Ylissean princess looked battered and weary, but appeared relatively unharmed. When Lucina saw Morgan glancing her way, she subtly nodded towards the captive Redeemers, leading Morgan's gaze to where Owain and Valent were chattering happily. Morgan smiled appreciatively, glad to see that Owain, too, had survived the chaotic battle.

"Hello, _Emperor,_ " Caelia greeted Yashiro in a strangely teasing manner.

"Ah, Caelia," Yashiro said, returning her greeting with a warm smile. "It's good to see you again."

"Surprised?" Caelia asked playfully.

"Pleasantly so," Yashiro answered.

Meanwhile, Actaeus had noticed another familiar face among those accompanying the emperor. "Hello, Iris. I'm glad to see you are well," he greeted her warmly.

"Master Actaeus," Iris said, nodding shyly. "He was the one trained me to use magic, back in Sienne," she explained, when Symphony and Harmony both looked at her questioningly.

"Not that you needed much training, gifted as you are," Actaeus remarked lightly. He then turned to Yashiro. "Your Majesty, my scouts have informed me that the Redeemers have assembled a small fleet. They have likely already reached Crimea's northern shores. If so, then even as we speak, they are marching towards Melior."

"Crimea's _northern_ shores?" Harmony asked, mystified.

"The Redeemers must have had another hideout," Morgan reasoned.

"I always figured Charon did," Harmony agreed readily. "He would disappear for weeks, even months, at a time. But a hideout at sea, large enough to house a full fleet?"

"So it seems," Actaeus said. "Your Majesty, the senate has learned that you are here, leading the Begnion Holy Guard personally. They've asked that you return to Sienne as soon as possible."

"Thank you. I will try to keep that in mind," Yashiro replied.

"And from that, I infer that you intend to remain beside your new tactician instead," Actaeus said, smiling knowingly.

Actaeus then looked over his shoulder and waved, and his companion, previously unnoticed due to her surprisingly small frame, stepped forward. Morgan recognized her at once, and knew her to be from Ferox, though that did little to diminish the surprise.

"Nah?" Lucina and Severa both gasped aloud.

The slight, green-haired girl winced uncomfortably, though she did wave politely to her friends.

"You know her?" Robin asked, frowning. Morgan jumped, having forgotten about the mirror entirely.

"Umm… yeah," Morgan admitted, though Nah shook her head frantically. "We met briefly, once, back when Khan Basilio was goofing around in that old mansion, remember?"

"Ah. You mean when you borrowed their little invention and created a labyrinth in the middle of the great hall, right?" Robin teased, though there was something more to his smile, and Morgan knew that she hadn't quite fooled her father.

Thankfully, he seemed willing to play along, for now. "Yeah, that's it," Morgan confirmed. "Small world, huh? How've you been, Nah?"

"Pretty good, at least until your monster showed up on Ferox's doorstep," Nah said. "Exalt Chrom told us the whole story, and I thought maybe you could use some help."

"We definitely could," Morgan readily admitted.

"Then you intend to go to Crimea's aid?" Actaeus asked.

Morgan wavered indecisively. She wanted to, naturally, any personal misgivings regarding Crimea's petty and underhanded nobility notwithstanding. At the same time, the thought of trying to stave off another small army of phantoms was daunting, to say the least. "How large is the Redeemer force?" she asked, stalling for time to think.

"I do not know for sure," Actaeus admitted. "My information indicates that their fleet consists of only three medium-sized ships. I suspect this force is nowhere near as large as the one you just battled."

"They could still easily have a hundred or more phantoms," Morgan estimated. "It's enough for the Redeemers to roll straight through Melior uncontested. Most of Crimea's military remains scattered across the country, and the soldiers that Duke Vortimer mobilized haven't had enough time to return to Melior."

"The Holy Guard will not be able to accompany us, either," Yashiro warned. "Unless we now have enough warp powder for three hundred knights and their mounts?"

Morgan flinched, for she clearly remembered the Begnion Holy Guard numbering five hundred at the beginning of their battle against the phantoms. "We don't," Morgan said, shaking her head somberly.

"Then if we are to defeat the Redeemers in Melior, the Crimeans will have to fight alongside us," Soren reasoned. "The Crimean Royal Knights remain in Melior. They may not be numerous, but neither are our enemies."

Morgan's expression brightened as she considered Crimea's elite cavalry. "If we can rally the Crimean Royal Knights, we should have more than enough to hold off the Redeemers," she realized, and though their last diplomatic attempts in Melior had ended in disaster, she found herself feeling newly hopeful and optimistic. After all, the Crimeans would be fighting directly against their true enemy, and at the heart of their own country.

"Unless the Redeemer force is comprised entirely of phantoms. In that case, the Crimean knights might not be sufficient," Soren cautioned.

"They will be," Morgan said determinedly. "We've defeated one Redeemer army already. We can defeat another."

"And may this one be the last," Kurth declared wishfully. "Let's bring an end to this war, Morgan."

"Indeed," Yashiro agreed. "I will send Commander Kara and her knights back to Sienne, but Felicia and I will remain."

"Then it is decided, and there is but one last matter to be settled," Actaeus pronounced gravely. He presented them with a large, circular object, wrapped in a thick cloth blanket. "Iris mentioned to me that two among your number are spirit charmers."

"Only one, now," Symphony said, gesturing towards his sister.

Actaeus turned towards Harmony. "My scouts brought me this. Perhaps you can find a use for it," he said, offering her the parcel.

Harmony accepted the surprising gift and began gently unwinding the cloth, but froze when she saw the parcel's contents.

"What is it?" Morgan asked curiously.

"W-Where did you get this?" Harmony stammered. Her hands trembled as she roughly pulled the cloth away, revealing a metallic ring of black metal, engraved with various runes and sigils.

Relic's halo.

"My information indicates that this once belonged to one of the Redeemers. I wish I could tell you more, but alas, that is all I know," Actaeus calmly explained, before turning to Yashiro once more. "If you have further need of me, Your Majesty, I will be waiting for you in Sienne."

"Thank you, Archmage," Yashiro said gravely. "Farewell."

* * *

After saying goodbye to her father, Morgan stowed her mirror and drifted away from the gathering, watching absentmindedly as her companions scrambled to spread the word. Though their course seemed clear and obvious, she couldn't quite shake the disquieting feeling that accompanied the sudden revelations. It felt as if everything around her was moving too quickly for her to truly follow.

Distracted as she was, Morgan didn't even notice Caelia following her away from the gathering. Concerned, the silver-haired girl tugged at Morgan's sleeve. "Hey, are you alright?" she asked gently.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine," Morgan replied.

"Just a little bit distracted," Caelia guessed, smiling sympathetically. "I guess that's pretty understandable. It sounds like you have a lot on your mind."

"I'll be fine," Morgan promised. "Did you need something, Caelia?"

"Nothing much," Caelia shrugged. "I was just wondering if my friends and I could tag along when you and the others leave for Crimea."

"You want to come with us?" Morgan asked, startled. "But if our information is correct, we'll be marching straight into another battle."

"I know. I was listening, remember?" Caelia reminded. "I know you said you can't bring all of Begnion's Pegasus knights with you, but you can bring the four of us, can't you?"

"Sure, but…" Morgan began.

"Great!" Caelia interrupted her enthusiastically. "Come on. I should introduce Kyrie and the others to you, now that they're talking again." She set off energetically, veritably dragging Morgan along, though they hadn't gone very far before one of Caelia's Laguz companions reached them.

"Caelia!" the brown-haired female called. She drifted down, landing directly in front of Caelia and wrapping her into a tight hug. "Nice flying back there!"

"You were the one flying," Caelia laughed. "Morgan, this is my girlfriend, Kyrie. She's Val's cousin."

"Val? You mean Prince Valent?" Morgan asked.

"Yep. Nice to meet you," Kyrie said, waving cheerfully. "Caelia, we found Val. Cody and Celt are with him now."

"That's the twins," Caelia explained, when she saw Morgan's perplexed look. "Don't worry if you can't keep the two of them straight."

"Celt hates being mixed up with his brother, but just ignore him," Kyrie suggested impishly. "Caelia, Val says they've been hunting the guys in black armor, too. Let's go with them!"

"I knew you'd say that," Caelia grinned. "Morgan already agreed to bring us with them. Come on, let's go meet with Val and the others. It's been months since I've last seen him."

* * *

Valent's face lit up as he spotted Morgan, Caelia, and Kyrie approaching. "Hey, Caelia!" he greeted delightedly. "I should've known we'd run into you and Kyrie sooner or later." He shot a sly smile at the twins. "Though I'm surprised these two are still with you. I thought they would've gotten drunk and wandered off by now."

"You're one to talk," one of the twins shot back.

"You speak as if _we're_ the ones who passed out in a bar and woke up in the king's bedroom," the other twin crowed.

"Maybe if you two hadn't been just as drunk, you wouldn't have dragged me into the wrong room," Valent smirked.

"He's got us there, Brother," the first twin admitted with a broad grin. "We were trying to dump him in Celera's room, remember?"

"Good thing you two were too drunk to find your way, then," one of the other hawks jeered. "I'm pretty sure she would have torn all three of you into pieces for drunkenly stumbling into her room in the middle of the night."

The other hawks, even the twins, shared a laugh as Valent gave a mock shudder. The prince then turned to Morgan. "Morgan, these two are old drinking buddies of mine," he explained. "The goofball's Cody, and the loud one is his brother, Celt."

The twins waved cheerfully at the young tactician, clearly unoffended by Valent's description. Morgan only smiled weakly and waved back, afraid to admit that she still had no idea which one was which.

"So, where are we off to next, Morgan?" Owain asked.

"We're heading to Crimea," Caelia answered before Morgan could.

"Again?" Owain asked, unable to hide his dismay.

"Yeah. Begnion's scouts claim the Redeemers are trying to capture Melior," Morgan explained. "Hopefully the Crimeans have finished arguing with each other, and we can help them save their city."

"We?" Valent asked, staring at Caelia. "Haven't you heard about Extinction and Daein?"

"We did," Caelia admitted. "We were on our way to Nevassa when we came across your Redeemers and decided to trail them. But it sounds like the fighting's already over in Daein. Gramps will be fine without us, I'm sure."

"Your grandfather lives in Daein? Maybe you should visit him and make sure he's alright," Morgan suggested.

Valent rounded on Caelia. "Didn't you tell her?" he asked, surprised.

"I didn't think it was important," Caelia shrugged.

"Tell me what?" Morgan asked, puzzled.

"Caelia here is Queen Micaiah's great-granddaughter," Valent replied.

"Queen Micaiah's great-granddaughter?" Morgan echoed. Vaguely, she recalled her conversation with Prince Lionel about his extended family. "Of course! Prince Lionel mentioned that he had a branded granddaughter living in Phoenicis!"

"That's me," Caelia affirmed brightly. She drew back her traveling cloak, angling herself so that Morgan could see the brand on her shoulder, exposed by her sleeveless shirt.

"So _that's_ how you knew we were in Daein," Morgan remembered, instinctively looking down at her robe, borrowed from Queen Micaiah. "You recognized my robe."

"Uh-huh," Caelia nodded. "My great-grandmother gave it to you for helping them with Extinction, right?"

"Close enough," Morgan said. "She lent it to me when my friends and I agreed to help her look into the Redeemers. It looks like we're finally getting somewhere with that."

"Looks like," Caelia agreed, looking over to where Begnion's Pegasus knights were securing the captured cultists, preparing them for the flight back to Sienne.

"We'd better get ready to leave, too," Morgan prompted, reaching for her warp powder and giving a handful to each of her companions.

* * *

As the others began preparing to leave, Harmony stepped away from them wordlessly. She appeared to be in a dazed stupor as she slowly walked over to the banks of the Miscale River. When she reached the dampened sands at the water's edge, she sat down, laying Actaeus's surprising gift to her aside before staring out over the calm waters, lost in her thoughts. She gave no indication of noticing her friends following her.

Lucina, Symphony, and Iris exchanged worried looks. Finally, Symphony moved to his sister's side, kneeling down to inspect the darksteel ring. If Harmony noticed her brother's presence then, she still gave no sign of it.

"Hey, Lucy."

Lucina and Iris turned to see Severa approaching. "Hello, Sev," Lucina said quietly.

Severa looked her friend over. "You alright? You look a bit burnt out."

"Not burnt out. Just burnt. I'll be fine," Lucina said, managing a weary smile.

Severa nodded, then moved to Symphony's side. She, too, began examining the ring. "This is Relic's, isn't it?"

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" Symphony said. "Maybe Begnion's spies managed to steal it from him. Or maybe the Redeemers had an extra one lying around," he guessed.

"No," Harmony said hoarsely, though she spoke with certainty. "Relic is too careful to leave his halo lying around to be stolen, and only Tantalus knew how to create such weapons. The phantoms are all built from the blueprints that Tantalus left behind, but he designed Relic's halo on a whim. He never drafted any plans for it, I'm sure."

"Then maybe it's a fake," Severa suggested.

In answer, Harmony retrieved the metal ring and rose to her feet. Then, stepping lightly atop the soft sandy banks, she moved clear of the others and closed her eyes.

Several of the mysterious glyphs lit up, seemingly responding to the spirit charmer's thoughts. There was a loud crack, and the ring separated into four, each glowing a different color. The four rings soared up and circled their wielder for several seconds. Then Harmony snapped her fingers, and the rings drifted behind her, forming a diamond pattern. "Not a fake," she declared.

"Definitely not," Severa said breathlessly. "That's pretty cool. Does that mean you can cause storms and earthquakes now, too?"

"Given enough time, maybe," Harmony said. She glanced over her shoulder at the rings, dismissing the weapon mentally. The halo reassembled itself immediately, going dark once more, but it continued to float in midair and looked rather odd suspended behind the dark-haired woman. "But I'm afraid to try," she admitted softly. "It took Relic many years to master this weapon. Many accidents, too."

"Experimenting with it right now sounds dangerous," Lucina agreed.

"I don't intend to use it," Harmony assured her. "But still, I don't understand. How could Begnion's spies have gotten their hands on this?" she muttered.

"Could it be a trap?" Iris suggested.

"Letting us steal his primary weapon in hopes that we'd try to use it and accidentally destroy ourselves?" Severa mused. "I guess it's possible, but it doesn't seem too likely."

"It doesn't," Harmony said. "I guess Relic must have gotten careless. It's hard to believe, but nothing else makes sense."

"The last time we saw him, he looked pretty old. Maybe he's dead," Symphony suggested.

Harmony only shrugged.

"Well, whatever the reason, it does mean Relic's less of a threat now," Lucina reasoned. "You should keep it with you, Harmony. If you get in a tight spot, it might come in handy."

"Fair enough," Harmony agreed.

Together, the five of them moved to rejoin their companions. As they went, Harmony couldn't keep herself from looking behind her, eyeing the halo as it drifted innocuously after her, wondering what had become of its former owner.

* * *

Medea stood brazenly before the entrance to Castle Crimea's main hall, pacing back and forth in a swaggering manner, her white silk robe trailing gracefully behind her. Cries of horror and suffering punctuated the sounds of battle as the phantoms swept across the city, tearing down buildings and killing any who crossed their paths. With each cry, Medea closed her eyes, relishing the brutality.

A Redeemer foot soldier rushed through the gates, though he slowed when he saw the nearby phantoms leering at him. "Lady Medea, we've found them," he reported, his voice wavering as he approached his notoriously sadistic commander.

"The rest of the Crimean Royal Knights?" Medea asked eagerly. "Where are they?"

"The phantoms have separated them. Some are holed up in the armory, just southwest of the palace. The rest have taken refuge in the granaries by the southern gate," the soldier said. "The phantoms are closing in on both locations now."

"Finally," Medea huffed impatiently. Then she glared at the soldier. "Well? What are you still doing here?"

"My lady?" the soldier asked fearfully.

"Get yourself over to the armory and finish off those knights! We didn't drag you along to stand at attention!" Medea snapped.

"Yes, ma'am!" the soldier said, saluting her rigidly and skittering out of sight.

"Useless," Medea groaned, shaking her head in exasperation. But before she could resume her restless pacing, she spotted something flying overhead, a short distance away. Her lips curved into a wicked smile as she recognized the Pegasus rider's stolen armor and long, platinum-blond hair. "Here for another dance, eh?" she whispered.

For her many faults, Medea wasn't stupid. She knew that the foolish blonde was a scout. She knew that King Goldoa had likely arrived, along with the rest of his unlikely entourage. She knew that she should warn her men.

She simply didn't care. What difference would a score of soldiers make against the mighty king of Goldoa? What value could the pitiful fools hold, standing beside a hundred phantoms?

But if that impudent lancer who had crossed her path thrice already was here, then maybe the traitors would be, too.

"Go and fetch dear Symphony, would you?" Medea called, though no one aside from her phantom protectors could hear her. "I'd say it's long past time for another little reunion!"

* * *

Symphony was the first to speak up after Severa and Morgan finished briefing everyone on what they had seen. "Medea's mine," he declared firmly.

"No way. I still owe the witch a few words," Severa argued. "Or maybe just one, shoved straight down her throat," she amended, twirling her lance and holding it up so that its name could be easily read.

"We have no shortage of enemies here," Morgan reminded both of them. "The Crimeans seem to be fighting back, but we have no idea how many of them are still alive. Medea's not alone, either. I counted at least eight phantoms in the courtyard with her."

"They outnumber us quite badly. We'll need to join up with the Crimean survivors as soon as possible if we want to turn this battle around," Soren said. "Morgan, you're sure the phantoms are clustered around the armory?"

"At least forty of them," Morgan confirmed. "And there were several more marching further south, towards the gate." She turned as she spoke, glancing towards the city's southern gate. It remained tightly shut for now, but she knew it could easily be opened from within.

"They could be coming to meet us," Severa said, echoing her sister's thoughts aloud.

"How many of them are headed this way?" Soren urged.

"A dozen, roughly," Morgan estimated.

"That's it? Let's just turn them into scrap metal, then," Valent said.

"If we do, we would be leaving the Crimeans to fend for themselves," Morgan reminded. "The Crimean Royal Knights are comprised almost entirely of cavalry. They won't be nearly as effective while they remain trapped indoors."

"We should send those who can fly to the armory to break them out," Soren suggested.

"They can take some of the others with them. The rest can move through the gate and engage the phantoms headed this way, keeping them from turning back," Morgan agreed.

"Medea will flee as soon as the battle turns against her," Severa warned.

"We can't let her get away from us again," Symphony insisted fervently.

"She could flee the moment we confront her, too," Morgan countered. "She must still have warp powder with her."

"Then we'll just have to finish her off before she can use it," Harmony interjected. Her eyes flashed angrily, and behind her, a sliver of light danced across the surface of Relic's halo.

Morgan looked uneasily to Soren.

"We'd be stretching ourselves quite thin," Soren said, sharing Morgan's fears. "But it should only take a few of us to dispatch the phantoms marching this way."

"Allow Amr and I to handle the southern gate," Nasir offered.

"I'll go with them," Nah volunteered. "I really shouldn't waste my dragon stone just flying…"

"Dragon stone?" Nasir asked curiously. In answer, Nah held up a small sparkling gemstone, though she didn't offer any further explanation.

"Shiro and I can help, too," Felicia offered, draping an arm around the emperor's shoulder. "The five of us against only a dozen phantoms? This'll be easy."

"Six of us," Carina corrected. "I'm not really one for flying, after all."

"Six then. If the phantoms weren't mindless constructs, I'd pity them," Amr agreed.

"Morgan, if we can defeat Medea here, only two of the Redeemer leaders will remain," Kurth reminded.

"One, if something has happened to Relic," Harmony added.

Though it still seemed a bit risky to Morgan, one glance at Severa and Symphony dispelled her remaining doubts. "All right, then," she finally agreed. "Some of us will head straight for the castle and confront Medea. King Goldoa, Prince Valent, you two will lead the others to recapture the armory, save for the six of us storming through the gates."

She glanced at Soren. The older tactician nodded briefly after a moment's consideration. "Good enough," he agreed. "There are fewer phantoms than we initially expected. It should be easy enough for us to wipe them out if we can break the Crimean knights out of their armory."

"Just leave it to us," Valent promised boldly.

* * *

Medea's smile widened when she noticed the two Pegasi approaching her. Then, when the two equine creatures were close enough for her to make out their riders, as well as the single Laguz accompanying them, the wicked spirit charmer burst out laughing.

"You disappoint me, my dear," she purred, staring gloatingly at Severa. "I had hoped that Symphony would be with you; he and I have a score to settle, after all. I never imagined he'd send his useless villager girlfriend and this idiot in his place," she said, waving mockingly at Iris and Owain.

"Don't be too disappointed," Iris said serenely. "Symphony wanted to see you, too, you know."

"Turns out you're quite popular, Medea. We almost had to draw lots to decide who'd get to kill you," Severa smirked. She and Owain dismounted quickly, and she patted Catria gently on the rump, prompting the Pegasus to take flight once more and retreat to a safe distance.

Two of the phantoms moved to Medea's side immediately. The other six began to close in as well, but we were quickly cut off by Cordelia's descent. Morgan hopped down from where she had been riding behind her mother, landing lightly on her feet.

"I'm glad to hear it," Medea said nonchalantly. "Maybe if we take this slowly, Symphony will arrive just in time to see me bleed the last wisps of life from you all."

"Oh, he'll be right along," Severa promised.

Medea smirked and drew her fine scepter with an elegant flourish.

In answer, Cordelia, Severa, Morgan, and Iris all lifted their identical staves.

* * *

"There!" Lucina called, shouting loudly so that she could be heard over the rush of wind.

The hawk Laguz she was riding upon dove accordingly, and Lucina tightened her grip on the hawk's back, silently hoping that she would not accidentally tear out his feathers.

Three more hawks followed suit, and once they touched down, Lucina, Soren, Symphony, and Harmony quickly disembarked.

"Good luck!" Caelia cried from somewhere above them, before she and Kyrie soared on towards the armory.

"You too!" Lucina called back. The four hawks took off again almost immediately after depositing their riders, leaving them alone.

But not for long. Even as Symphony looked anxiously to the north, all four felt a familiar tingling as the magical summons reached them.

The world shimmered around them, distorting and reshaping itself, leaving Lucina and Soren standing beside Cordelia and Morgan, facing the six phantoms.

And leaving the two former Redeemers standing beside Severa, Owain, and Iris, standing before Medea.

* * *

Suddenly outnumbered, Medea faltered back a step, instinctively reaching for her warp powder.

"If you mean to run, you'd better be quick," Harmony warned grimly, Relic's halo twirling menacingly behind her. Despite her words, she had no intention of letting their quarry escape.

"Me? Run from you?" Medea sneered. Her hand fell away from the pouch of warp powder, going instead to her belted tome. "That doddering old fool's treachery knows no bounds, it seems. No matter. You have no idea how long I've waited for this. I only wish I had killed you fools back in the citadel."

"You tried," Symphony reminded evenly, his voice deathly calm. "Tried and failed, which puts us in the same boat, doesn't it? I couldn't quite manage to hunt you down in the forest, either."

"What a pity. I would have enjoyed that," Medea said, leering at Iris. "Could've left another body for our little runaway to cry over. I suppose I'll just have to settle for killing her, too."

"You shall not visit death upon anyone today, or ever again," Owain promised.

Medea scowled at him. "Enough! I will not waste my breath trading threats with a dead man," she barked. She gestured forward with her scepter. "Take them!"

The two darksteel phantoms raised their swords, and the shimmering golden flames enveloping their empty gauntlets flared brighter. One wrapped its burning gauntlet around the base of its blade, lining the cruel weapon in the same hungering flames, before leaping at Owain. The other simply presented his empty palm towards Iris, unleashing a scorching wave.

Iris countered with a scintillating burst of light, hopping away and soaring upward as she did. The phantom staggered away, mostly unharmed, but could do little more as waves of crippling light magic slammed into it, again and again. Harmony slipped closer to the faltering construct, standing just beyond the range of Iris's spell, waiting for her opening.

Meanwhile, unwilling to test his weapon against the phantom's blazing sword, Owain drew back, allowing the phantom to approach him. Severa proved just as cautious, waiting for it to face Owain squarely before moving to flank it from behind.

Seeing the lancer's intent, Medea invoked her tome, and small pearls of light materialized in a ring around her extended arm, before spinning off towards her target. The small bolts struck Severa's armor to little effect, failing to even distract her as she plunged her lance into the phantom's chest. The phantom jolted, then spun, throwing a wild spiral of flame that sent both Severa and Owain diving aside.

Then Symphony charged straight at Medea, sickles spinning wildly, forcibly drawing the sorceress's attention away from her phantoms. She swung her scepter out wide, but Symphony was too fast. One of his sickles latched onto the outstretched scepter, tugging it aside, while the other darted straight forward, stabbing down towards Medea's chest.

Medea recoiled at once, losing her grip on her scepter entirely, but Symphony's sickle only clipped her, deflecting off her enchanted black leather bodice. Disregarding her scepter, Medea fired a cascade of shining missiles at her assailant, sending him reeling backward.

But before Medea could cast again, or move to retrieve her scepter, Iris rounded upon her, interceding with her most powerful spell yet, a blinding explosion of light that swept Medea off her feet entirely. A shining wisp then materialized beside the bat Laguz, peppering the fallen spirit charmer with a barrage of silvery darts.

Behind Iris, the phantom she had been battling recovered its footing gracefully, despite the damage it had sustained during Iris's relentless magical onslaught. Noticing Medea's plight, the unshakeable construct readied a spell and leveled its gauntlet at Iris.

Harmony proved to be faster. She rushed the phantom from behind, and her fine scimitar flashed through the air, sparking angrily as it neatly decapitated the weakened phantom. She then approached Medea's prone form, pausing only to kick the phantom's head down the castle steps.

With both Symphony and Harmony closing in, Medea looked desperately to her remaining phantom, just in time to see Owain dropping low and slashing through the phantom's legs. A split second later, Severa impulsively threw herself at the phantom, tackling it hard and sending most of the phantom tumbling away from its severed metal leggings.

* * *

"Here we go again," Morgan sighed, leveling her tome towards the nearest phantom. The phantom's twin blades and combat stance were painfully familiar by now.

"Focus, Morgan," Cordelia urged. She alone remained mounted, and was the first to strike, pressing her steed forward when the phantoms closed in. She slid between two of them as they moved to intercept, striking one of the pair squarely in the chest. Her victim, one of the gold, poleaxe-bearing phantoms, was lifted up into the air and dragged along as she took off. Cordelia then lowered her lance just in time to slam the struggling construct against the upper edge of the parapets.

Cordelia's daring maneuver had fully drawn the attention of all five of the remaining phantoms for a few seconds, giving her allies ample time to strike first. "Left!" Lucina warned, just before charging the leftmost phantom. The silver phantom punched out at her with a heavy gauntlet as she approached, but the agile swordswoman was far too quick to be caught by such a straight forward attack. She weaved around the phantom's overreaching arm, slashing Falchion deep into its side.

Simultaneously, heeding Lucina's warning, Soren aimed his spell right, steering clear of his allies. A magical gale roared past him, lifting three of the phantoms and flinging them into the wall nearly thirty feet behind them.

Morgan knew she didn't have long. The three constructs Soren had thrown aside began rising as soon as they landed, leaving her only a short window. She took a measured step towards the remaining phantom with the twin blades, maintaining a defensive posture with her own swords drawn.

The phantom took the bait, diving forward with both blades extended. Though she had been expecting the move, Morgan was nearly overwhelmed by the phantom's raw speed. A wave of energy burst forth from Alondite, staggering the phantom just in time. It was then Morgan's turn to charge recklessly ahead, and a spurt of blue flames shimmered through the air as Eternity sliced straight through the phantom's durable chest plating. She pivoted, bringing the blade around from the opposite direction and thrusting it through the phantom's visor.

Meanwhile, to the right, Soren sent another spell soaring after his first, knocking two phantoms back down as they tried to rise. The third remained standing, having braced itself in time, but Cordelia chose that moment to make her return known, impaling the last standing phantom from behind and tossing it atop of its fallen comrades.

Down to their last three opponents, Morgan found herself caught between going to Lucina's aid and moving to finish off the two pinned phantoms. Lucina made her decision quite a bit easier then, spinning away from her immediate foe and dealing it a lethal, backhanded blow. The crippled silver phantom stumbled away, lopsided, as volatile blue flames burned from each of the six long gashes torn by Falchion's keen edge. Lucina and Morgan raced to the last two phantoms, finishing them both off before they could rise again, as the silver phantom exploded in a shower of white-hot molten metal.

* * *

"You wretched ingrates!" Medea shrieked, pulling herself to her feet quickly. It galled her to admit it, but she knew the battle was lost. Desperate for even the slightest advantage, she slipped a dagger free of where it had been strapped to her thigh, flinging it wildly in Symphony's direction.

Symphony instinctively dove away from the glinting object, and the dagger whizzed past him harmlessly. Still, it had bought Medea the time she was after, and she sneered at her enemies again as she reached for her warp powder, knowing they wouldn't have time to stop her.

"No!" Harmony cried. In desperation, she reversed her grip on her scimitar and hurled it as if it were a javelin. Her aim was true, but the curved weapon was not meant to stab through armor, and simply bounced off Medea's leather corset.

Medea grimaced in pain, but grabbed her pouch of warp powder anyways, loosening the drawstring hastily.

With no other options left before her, Harmony called to Relic's halo.

A powerful tremor shook the stone steps and walkway beneath their feet. The fine tiles split with an enormous cracking noise and began to vibrate, throwing almost everyone nearby off balance. Even Harmony, who had been expecting the quake, tumbled helplessly to the ground. As Medea, too, fell, she fumbled her pouch of warp powder, when spilled out across the cracked stone tiles.

Only Iris remained unaffected, and when Medea bent down to scoop up a handful of the spilled warp powder, the Laguz girl dove at her desperately, without a second thought.

But for all she had learned of magic, Iris lacked the strength, speed, and reflexes of her opponent. As the Laguz tried to grapple Medea, the spirit charmer punched out, striking the smaller girl forcefully in the gut and forcing her away. Then, instead of trying for her warp powder again, Medea readied her tome.

A shining sphere struck Iris full in the face, exploding and blinding everyone in the vicinity. Iris screamed in agony and dropped out of the sky, frantically trying to shield her sensitive eyes.

"Iris!" Symphony cried. He was the first to recover, but any thoughts of finishing Medea off fell away when he saw Iris lying on the cracked stone walkway, writhing in pain. He scrambled to her side, and only when he knelt down beside her did he realize there was nothing he could offer her. She was clearly in pain, but she looked unharmed, save for a few bruises from her short fall.

"I didn't think she'd survive that. Such a shame," Medea teased, drawing Symphony's attention back to her. "You really ought to finish her off yourself, and spare her from her suffering, don't you think?" She casually kicked one of Symphony's sickles sliding across the ground to rest at his feet.

Though he knew he was far too late, Symphony grabbed his sickle and charged, even as Medea flung her warp powder to the ground.

A jet of green light shot past Symphony, halting him his path. It struck Medea, and her expression became one of utmost shock and horror as the warp powder's magic failed. "You!" she snarled.

Relic collapsed where he had appeared, beside Morgan at the base of the stone steps. His once-fine crimson and gold robes were charred and torn, and his wrinkled face was marred by angry burns and welts. Blood trickled from his side, forming a sickly puddle around him.

It was a mystery that Symphony didn't care to solve, not with the woman who had sacked his home at his mercy. For one gratifying second, Medea looked up at him pleadingly. Then she jolted and shuddered as Symphony's sickle tore into her heart.

"You… you will pay," Medea gasped. "You spit in the face of God! You will pay! He will make... you… ah!" A violent shudder ran through her. Then she went still.

* * *

The world felt strangely surreal as Symphony watched Medea's blood drip from the edge of his sickle. Though he had finally done as he had set out to do, it brought him little comfort. He could hardly feel anything at all. He glanced into Medea's face, frozen in a silent scream of denial in her death throes, and that, too, brought him little pleasure.

He closed his eyes, then, and thought of Silent Grove, and the friends and family he had known there. "It's over, Lily," he whispered softly.

He thought of the phantoms rampaging through Melior, and their companions fighting on just beyond the castle walls. He thought of Charon, waiting out there somewhere, no doubt with other insidious schemes waiting. None of that seemed to matter to him then.

Then he thought of Iris, and his eyes flew open. He turned and dropped straight to her side again, and any thoughts of Medea, of the Redeemers, and of Charon fell away. "Iris!" he cried again, dropping to her side and grasping her hand.

She stirred as she felt his touch. "Symphony? Is that you?" she whispered. She looked up towards him, but her violet eyes darted back and forth, seemingly unable to focus.

"I'm right here," Symphony said gently.

At the sound of his voice, Iris looked up, though she didn't quite meet his eyes, and her gaze seemed distant and hollow. "It's dark…" she said softly.

Symphony understood, and could only barely keep himself from trembling. Iris had always been particularly sensitive to light, after all. "Her spell hit you hard, but you're going to be okay," Symphony reassured, silently hoping it to be true. "Medea's finished. You can rest easy."

Iris nodded weakly and closed her eyes once more. "Stay with me," she slurred drowsily.

"I won't leave you," Symphony promised readily.

* * *

Watching quietly from the side, Harmony shared her brother's fears, though she could not bring herself to interrupt. Instead, she watched, heartbroken, as Symphony cradled the injured Laguz girl in his arms. Finally, convinced that Iris was in good hands, Harmony turned and joined Severa and Owain, and the three of them made their way down the stairs.

There, they found Morgan standing helplessly over Relic's battered form, a healing staff in hand.

"Please, just let me…" Morgan began.

"There is no need," Relic wheezed, with great effort.

"You won't last much longer without help," Soren warned.

"Death concerns me not," Relic replied.

"What are you doing here, Relic?" Harmony asked distrustfully. She had never understood the cryptic old spirit charmer, but though he looked harmless enough now, and though they could not have finished off Medea without his timely assistance, Harmony couldn't help but be suspicious.

Relic looked up at her and smiled, and even that seemed to pain him greatly. "Find our road's end," he begged. "The road of redemption."

"Of Tellius's redemption? Or ours?" Harmony asked.

"One and the same," Relic answered.

"Oh? Who else in Tellius has caused even a _fraction_ of the misery you and your Redeemers have, then?" Severa fumed. "Go on. I'm dying to hear it."

In answer, Relic looked up towards Melior's mighty castle, darkened and deserted.

"You cannot fault them for unrest," Harmony protested. "Whatever their faults, they tried to cling to peace. We prodded them towards war."

Relic began to laugh, but it quickly devolved into painful wheezing once more.

"You two can argue about it later," Morgan interrupted, trying to hide her own discomfort. "Let me heal you, Relic."

Relic shook his head slowly, and when Morgan invoked her staff anyways, she felt a mental barrier standing between them, barring her magic. "There is no time," he explained.

"Who did this to you?" Harmony asked, eyeing the old man's numerous wounds.

"Who else but God?" Relic chuckled wryly. "Darkness incarnates once more."

"Medea spoke of God, too, on her dying breath," Owain noted solemnly.

"Nonsense. The dark god was only a myth. A rumor," Soren scoffed.

"What does it mean, Relic?" Harmony demanded impatiently. "Are you talking about Charon?"

"Did you and Medea cast away the last pretense of sanity so you could worship him or something?" Severa asked sourly.

"Charon is no more," Relic whispered. "Cataclysm ingrained in apotheosis."

"Cataclysm? Apotheosis?" Morgan asked, at a complete loss.

"The dire awaits you," Relic went on. "Castle Acheron lies north."

"Castle Acheron?" Harmony asked, not recognizing the name.

Relic forced himself to look up and peer to the north. He gestured up towards the golden tassels of light, shimmering across the night sky. "Nestled in Wyverns' Crag. Follow the spirits' light."

Morgan looked up, her heart sinking as her eyes reflected the impossibly beautiful display. A shiver ran down her spine. It was as if all the pieces she had held for so long had suddenly come together on their own. The golden light of the eidolons. The wyvern riders fighting alongside Lister. Charon and his secret hideout, Castle Acheron.

But there was a final warning in Relic's words, too.

"The dire?" Morgan asked tentatively, unable to keep the fearful tremor out of her voice.


	12. Part Three: Reincarnation

**~ Part Three ~**

 **Reincarnation of Light and Darkness**

 _Who else but God?_

 _What could Relic have meant by that?_

 _The title might have been a mere mockery. There was a trace of irony his words, after all, and not even the slightest hint of reverence. But on her dying breath, Medea supposedly spoke of a god, too. If she and Relic were speaking of the same thing, then she, at least, did not see it as a joke._

 _We sail north towards Wyverns' Crag, to this mysterious Castle Acheron that Relic spoke of, and yet we haven't the faintest idea of what, or who, we will find there. Or perhaps we do._

 _Who else but God?_

 _Has a new deity come upon Tellius? A divine entity striving for recognition, or faith, or perhaps simply for destruction?_

 _I want to believe that Relic's words were the ramblings of a man gone mad. He didn't seem to be particularly sane, after all. He turned on his former allies, offered cryptic warnings to his former enemies, refused my attempts to heal him, and then fled with his warp powder, presumably to meet his fate alone. He was an old and broken man, and I feel foolish for putting so much thought into his last words._

 _But I cannot truly shake them, either. Our road ahead is finally clear, but our destination remains shrouded in mystery, and in reflecting upon our journey so far, there is a pattern there, a single common thread weaving through everything we've accomplished. I feel like I understand where our road leads, even if there remain more questions than answers._

 _Why have the Redeemers acted so rashly? For years, they danced in the shadows, tugging on strings that few could see, let alone understand. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, they surfaced and committed their soldiers and phantoms to battles they were destined to lose. They marched into Begnion, knowing that sooner or later they would have been confronted with Begnion's army, the mightiest military force in all of Tellius. And what were they hoping to achieve in Melior? Even if we had not intervened, how long could they have hoped to hold the city before Daein, Gallia, or Begnion rose to their challenge?_

 _Who is, or was, Charon, really? What was he after? What has he been doing this entire time, and what has become of him and his schemes now?_

 _Maybe we will find our answers at Wyverns' Crag. Maybe we'll never find our answers at all. For better or for worse, all signs point to this grand struggle approaching its inevitable conclusion. All three dire eidolons have been vanquished. Tellius's great conflicts have been squelched. Of the six former leaders among the Redeemers, three have apparently fallen, and three more have turned away from their cause. Their armies have been thoroughly defeated, and all of Tellius has united against them._

 _But in all that, too, the same thread of historical familiarity weaves through, the same pattern that makes me wonder whether we are truly prepared for whatever is to come. More than ever before, the path we walk along bears an unmistakable likeness to the tale of the Radiant Hero._

 _Tellius was full of conflict then, too, with the races warring amongst themselves and against each other, all driven by the subtle manipulations of an aggrieved Laguz. When at last the truth came to light, it was very nearly too late. Ashera had awoken, and those who survived her wrath found themselves with little choice but to challenge their own goddess._

 _It can't be an accident that our conflict mirrors that ancient struggle so perfectly. Instead of Daein lashing out at Crimea, Phoenicis turned its talons inwards against itself. Instead of the Laguz Alliance marching upon Begnion, only to be intercepted by pawns of the Begnion senators, Crimea marched upon Gallia, only to meet champions from all over Tellius and beyond. Extinction rampaged through Daein to reach Nevassa. Maelstrom swept along the Gallian coastline, leaving only ruin in his wake. The Redeemers stormed across Begnion's borders and seized Melior._ _Each battle has taken its toll, leaving every one of Tellius's countries worse for the wear._

 _And in our moment of seeming triumph, a new enemy has apparently risen. A force greater than the dire eidolons and beyond the Redeemers, if Medea and Relic are to be believed._

 _Then there's the pieces that have come together around us, and it is there that I find a conspicuous hole in the parallels I have drawn. We have Soren, the Radiant Hero's trusted friend and tactician. We have Symphony, Harmony, and Iris, ordinary people of Tellius who have been caught up in something so much greater than themselves. We have Beorc and Laguz leaders from all across Tellius, the descendants or successors to those who accompanied the Radiant Hero, uniting to face whatever power has come against them, divine or otherwise._

 _But there is still a crucial piece missing._

 _In days long past, a young man strode the lands of Tellius. He was simple yet true, his deeds brave and noble. He reunited two races long at war, and healed the heart of a goddess long gone mad. Ask any you meet be they young or old, Beorc or Laguz, of a hero named Ike and you'll receive a warm smile and a tale or two of faith, courage, and honesty._

 _When Soren wrote of his old friend, those were the words he chose. That was the extraordinary man who Tellius's champions united around, and the hero who found the strength to conquer a goddess. That is what we are missing now, with the Radiant Hero's successor and legendary weapon buried in the secluded Snowflake Forest, in the war-torn ruins of a once-peaceful village._

 _Where is our Radiant Hero now? Where is the linchpin that holds our little force together, the fearless leader to spearhead us towards and over seemingly insurmountable obstacles?_

 _Could one of the others rise to the challenge, perhaps? There's no shortage of great men and women among us, after all._

 _King Kurthnaga of Goldoa, with strength grounded in his eternal youth and many long centuries of wisdom._

 _Emperor Yashiro of Begnion, who reluctantly assumed the throne had once left behind, accepting and bearing responsibility that he had been freed of._

 _Prince Valent of Phoencis, who accepted his weaknesses long ago, stepping aside to allow his friend the throne._

 _Princess Caelia of Daein, who roams the wider world, doing what she can to better it as her great-grandmother rules on peacefully, century after century._

 _Queen Carina of Gallia, who struggles to maintain her hold upon her own people, and yet doesn't hesitate to charge headlong into battle for their sake._

 _Any of them could be the hero that we need. Or perhaps none of them will. That's what I fear most, the thought of reaching the end of our road only to stumble in the final stretch. The thought of finding ourselves standing against the reincarnation of darkness, with the reincarnation of light lost in our wake._

 _And if that's where our road is headed, it's too late to turn back now. Priam is as lost to us as the Radiant Hero himself. If we find ourselves needing a hero, I can only believe in my new companions, and trust that one or more of them will step forth. If we find ourselves needing the power of a goddess beyond the magic of an unpredictable enchanted sword, maybe Ashunera will be willing to speak to us through Queen Micaiah's great-granddaughter or great-nephew._

 _So we sail onwards, to Wyverns' Crag and to Castle Acheron, where we will meet our next and hopefully last challenge. The pattern I've recognized offers me nothing but fear and doubt, but we sail on anyways. I know what is to come. I know what we are missing._

 _At this point, I can only believe._


	13. Chapter 8

**~ Chapter 8 ~**

Harmony gingerly made her way down the narrow hallway, stepping lightly across the floor of wooden planks in rhythm with the ship's persistent rocking. Summer had turned to autumn long ago, and the northern seas had grown dangerously choppy. Thankfully, the borrowed Crimean vessel seemed to be weathering the mild storms comfortably enough, and their short voyage was already nearly at its end.

When the former assassin reached the end of the hall, she quietly slipped into the room she shared with her brother and Iris. Despite her best efforts, Symphony noticed her at once and turned to greet her silently. Iris remained perfectly still, lying upon one of the cramped room's cots with her eyes tightly shut.

"How is she?" Harmony whispered softly.

"Her hearing's as good as ever," Iris, who apparently wasn't asleep as she appeared to be, answered cheerfully.

Harmony smiled sadly. "Are you feeling any better, Iris?"

"A little."

"She still can't see," Symphony added. He spoke calmly, and his dispassionate expression seemed set in stone, but Harmony sensed a hint of grief and distress beneath his unemotional guise.

"Blind as a bat, as Noelle used to say," Iris remarked lightly. Unlike Symphony, she seemed remarkably nonplussed. "Other than that, I think I'll be okay."

Harmony smiled helplessly at the Laguz girl's endless optimism. "That's good to hear," she said kindly, even as she silently wondered how _anyone_ could so quickly come to accept the prospect of being permanently blinded. "Umm… about what Noelle said… bats aren't actually blind, are they?" she asked, fumbling about for a change in subject.

"Nope," Symphony confirmed. "Iris and I spent two weeks trying in vain to convince Noelle of that."

"Hardheaded girl," Harmony sighed. Then she remembered why she had sought out her brother, and her heart sank even further. "Symphony, I spoke with Morgan again," she said softly.

Symphony tensed up at her words. "What did she say?" he asked, suddenly alert.

"Didn't you two already ask her to help? She told us that she already did all that she could," Iris reminded them serenely.

"I know," Harmony nodded glumly. "But Symphony and I were wondering if someone from their home might know something more."

"And? What did she say?" Symphony demanded impatiently.

Harmony shook her head sadly. "She promised to ask around, but didn't sound too hopeful. If the people of Ylisse have some way to cure blindness, magical or otherwise, she's never heard of it. I asked her mother, too, who only recommended that we let Iris rest," she replied.

Symphony seemed to deflate then, and he slumped back in his chair, dejected.

Iris took it all in stride, though. "It's alright. Really," she insisted. "Even if my eyes never heal, it's far from the worst that could have happened."

Somehow, Iris's easy acceptance of her fate made it seem all the more terrible to Symphony. The world seemed cruelly unfair to him at that moment, just as it had the night Silent Grove was sacked. His frustration towards his own powerlessness boiled and seethed within him as he stared at the small cabin's only porthole into the near-absolute darkness outside.

Iris heard him shift in his seat, and could sense his anguished state. "I'll be fine, Symphony," she promised. "I'm still alive. So are you and Harmony, and all the rest of our friends. That's all that really matters. I can learn to live with being blind." She smiled warmly at him, opening her violet, unseeing eyes.

Symphony stared at her doubtfully. Their gazes didn't quite meet, a poignant reminder of Iris's new and possibly permanent condition. Still, he could find neither the heart nor the will to argue. He took a deep breath. "You're right, Iris. We'll find a way to fix this. And even if we can't, you won't have to work this out alone. I promise," he said instead, forcing himself to push his fears aside.

"Thank you," Iris whispered drowsily, closing her eyes peacefully once more. "I don't want to be alone again." Her breathing slowed and became more rhythmic as this time, she truly did fall asleep.

After several moments, Harmony spoke up again tentatively. "Symphony, Morgan wanted me to ask you for a favor," she said quietly, eyeing Iris carefully. She needn't have worried; their bat Laguz friend remained peacefully asleep.

"What is it?" Symphony asked, though he already suspected what his sister was about to suggest.

"When we reach Wyverns' Crag, Iris will have to stay with the ship. She can't fight with us in this state. Even if she could, I don't think I'd want her to," Harmony said. "As powerful as her magic is, she's not trained to fight, and I can't bear to see her hurt again. Not like this."

"It's not her place," Symphony readily agreed.

Harmony braced herself. "But we can't leave her alone. Could you stay with the ship and look after her?" she asked.

"Of course," Symphony agreed automatically.

Harmony stared at him curiously. She had expected him to be a little more malleable, given the situation, but she hadn't anticipated him giving in so completely.

Noticing her look, Symphony smiled. It was a small, sad sort of smile, filled with regret. "I've just about had enough of this war," he admitted.

Harmony stared at him for a moment longer, then smiled as well. "Really? It took you this long to grow sick of it?" she gently teased.

"I only wish the realization had come sooner," Symphony said, and once again, he found himself staring distantly into nothingness. "All along, I knew that killing Medea wouldn't fix anything. I knew it wouldn't bring them back, or comfort them, or… or anything. But I went after her anyways. Even when I followed you to Dragonflame Isle, I was hoping we'd cross paths with her again. I told myself it would bring me peace, or at least some satisfaction. I convinced myself I was searching for justice. Or was it vengeance I was after? I don't really know."

"A little bit of both, I suppose," Harmony offered. "Medea got exactly what she deserved. She was an unrepentant monster who lashed out at anyone and everyone. If what Morgan learned from that strange spy in Begnion can be trusted, she had no better reason for it all than being unable to cope with her own pain and loss."

"A little bit of both, then," Symphony conceded. "And when I stood over her, and ran that wicked murderess through, I guess I _did_ feel some measure of satisfaction, knowing that the world had just become a little bit safer. But it just… it just wasn't what I had been hoping for."

"What _were_ you hoping for?" Harmony asked patiently.

"I don't know," Symphony admitted. "And _that_ , I think I knew all along. Chasing after Medea was just the simple thing to do. I kept myself busy hunting down someone blatantly evil, trying to do something righteous to make up for my long-forgotten crimes. All I had to do was follow those around me, to the Divine Citadel, to Dragonflame Island, back to the Snowflake Forest to search for Tantalus, and on to battle the Redeemers wherever we could find them."

"But now Medea's finished, and you can't hide anymore," Harmony said understandingly.

"I'm sorry. I must sound so selfish," Symphony apologized. "I'm just sick of all this. Of fighting, of watching people die, of seeing the people I care about suffer. I'm sick of it all."

"That makes two of us, then," Harmony said, laughing bitterly. "Don't apologize. I've been searching for a way out for years. I thought you found one, when you lost your memories and found your way to Silent Grove. Don't you remember? I kept the truth from you. I wanted you to be free of this all, and while I was visiting you and the others, I could pretend to be free of it, too."

Symphony's face fell into his hands. "I feel like I'm running away. Like I'm hiding," he murmured. "I should be there beside you, seeing our journey through to its end."

"And you would have been," Harmony insisted. "You're not hiding. None of us are fighting simply because we want to fight… well, except for maybe Prince Valent and his friends. But all of us, even the hawk Laguz, are here to fight for something that's important to us. You're doing the same thing, aren't you? You have something, or some _one_ , rather, who you want to protect. Someone who you _need_ to protect."

Instinctively, Symphony looked to Iris, who remained fast asleep.

"She's my friend, too," Harmony reminded. "If Morgan had asked me to stay and look after her, I would do so gladly. If you want me to stay in your stead, I would not hesitate in the slightest. But I think Morgan made the right choice."

They sat in silence for several long moments. Then Harmony rose to leave, thinking to leave her brother with his thoughts.

"I can't," Symphony whispered suddenly, stopping her in her tracks.

"You can't what?" Harmony asked, puzzled.

"I can't protect her. Not forever," Symphony said.

Harmony shrugged, unconcerned. "Maybe not, but even if that's true, isn't that all the more reason to spend whatever time with her that you can? Or do you truly think Iris would be happier for you to leave her now, when you both still have many decades ahead of you?"

Symphony flinched and turned to her pleadingly, but Harmony only smiled reassuringly, then turned to leave, knowing that she had pushed him as far along as she could.

A short while later, Symphony found himself idly twirling a small trinket in his palm. He stared silently at the moonstone-encrusted ring, patterned with irises, and for the first time since Silent Grove's fall, he found himself wondering not where his road would lead him, but where he wanted his road to lead.

* * *

While most of the ship's passengers hid below deck to avoid the rain, the persistent drizzle hardly bothered Nah, who was well-accustomed to Ferox's ferocious storms. She emerged from the cabin, hardly taking notice of the rainfall, and immediately spotted Lucina and Severa at the ship's stern, leaning over the rails together and staring into the frothing wake. "Now, there's a familiar sight," she greeted them cheerfully as she approached.

"Hello, Nah," Lucina said, smiling warmly, glad for a chance to speak with one of her old friends. Severa, on the other hand, only waved casually over her shoulder without looking back. "Sorry for nearly ruining your cover."

"It's alright," Nah said, brushing her apology aside. "You seem worried, Lucina. Is everything okay?"

"Lucy always seems worried," Severa teased, turning around at last.

"Can you blame me?" Lucina asked, smiling nervously.

"Guess not," Severa admitted, her smile fading. "No one seems to know what's going to happen next. Not even Morgan."

"She's just as foreign to this world as we are," Lucina reminded fairly. "She doesn't know anything we don't."

Severa shrugged. "Since when has that ever stopped her from coming up with one of her completely nonsensical ideas?" she pointed out. "Ideas that somehow turn out to be right, or at least helpful in some way, I might add. But this time, if she has any ideas, she's not sharing."

"Well, whatever happens next, I'm sure we can handle it," Nah said. "We've been through worse, haven't we?" As she spoke, she reached into one of her pockets and retrieved her dragon stone, idly tossing and catching it.

"You're probably right," Lucina agreed. "Whatever's waiting for us in Wyverns' Crag can't be as bad as the Fell Dragon was."

"That's reassuring," Severa commented dryly, watching as Nah fiddled with her dragon stone. "Nah, you didn't burn your stone out in the last battle, did you?" she asked worriedly.

"Nope. I didn't see much fighting at all, honestly," Nah answered. "We found more of the knights hiding inside the granaries. Once we routed those strange metal monsters at the entrance, the knights helped us clear out the rest. Then we told them about the others trapped in the armory, and they set off, leaving us behind. By the time we caught up to them, the battle was pretty much over. I think I used up more of my stone's power back in Ferox."

"Oh! I've been meaning to ask, how is everyone back at home?" Lucina asked. "Did you see Cynthia?"

"Briefly," Nah said, smiling faintly. "She nearly gave me away, too. She seemed happy enough, as did everyone else in Ylisse."

"What about Ferox?" Severa asked. "That's where Calamity went, right? The large dragon eidolon?"

Nah nodded. "Some of the Feroxi soldiers took a beating, but most of them survived. My mother took a few nasty blows, but she seemed to be alright," Nah recounted.

"Did she find out who you are?" Lucina asked curiously.

"Mm… it's hard for me to say," Nah said tentatively. "You've met her, haven't you? She's not a child, but she acts like one. She never seems to be completely serious. When she saw me, she asked what my name was. I told her, and she said it was a confusing name."

"Well, she's not wrong," Severa laughed.

"But then she changed her mind, and said it was, in her words, 'kind of cute,'" Nah said with a sigh.

"Maybe it means she'll name her daughter after you," Lucina said, unable to hide her amusement.

"Just what I wanted," Nah said, sighing again. "I just… I don't know. I think she's figured it out, but at the same time, I'm not certain."

"You could just tell her," Lucina suggested. "Then there wouldn't be any question, right?"

"Or she'd think it was all a game," Nah said, exasperated. She shook her head slowly. "Don't worry about me, Lucina. I can take care of myself. Even with you and Severa sending ancient horrors my way from somewhere across the ocean."

"Can I blame that on Owain? I think I'm blaming that on Owain," Severa decided.

"I see you and he haven't changed much, either," Nah said, smiling knowingly.

"What's that's supposed to mean?" Severa frowned.

"Nothing much. It's just comforting to know that some things never change," Nah said wistfully. As she spoke, she glanced toward the bow of the ship to where Morgan was huddled beneath the ship's rail, a light blanket draped over her head in a futile effort to ward off the rain.

* * *

Truthfully, Morgan had more than a few ideas of what awaited them. Sadly, none of those ideas were bright and inviting prospects. In fact, they did little more than leaving the young tactician feeling sorely outmatched.

She understood that pondering a puzzle when she held only half the pieces was fruitless, but she couldn't quite push her doubts aside, either. So she sat there, alone at the front of the ship, lost in her thoughts and keeping those doubts to herself.

Then, as she was prone to do whenever she felt like she needed guidance, she thought of her father, waiting for them in Tanas. "Maybe I _should_ ask Dad," she whispered aloud, reaching instinctively for her satchel. Then she jumped to her feet, suddenly realizing that she wasn't as alone as she had thought.

"You could, but your father doesn't know any more than we do," Soren reminded. He was seated only a few feet away, leaning against the ship's rails, and didn't turn to face Morgan as he spoke. "His speculations, if they differ, would mean little more than your own."

"I know that," Morgan said, feeling foolish and making no effort to hide her annoyance. "What are you doing here, Soren?"

"Thinking idle thoughts while getting soaked by this infernal rain. Same as you, in other words," Soren said.

Morgan rolled her eyes, and with a soft, incoherent grumble, she sat down and slid beneath the rail once more. She eyed her wet blanket distastefully before rolling it up and setting it aside.

"You seem a bit agitated," Soren observed.

"Really? I wonder why," Morgan retorted sarcastically.

"Please don't tell me that you bought into that old spirit charmer's senseless rambling about a god," Soren said.

"Aren't we on our way to Wyverns' Crag because of him?" Morgan pointed out irritably.

"I didn't mean to imply that he was lying, just that he was clearly mad," Soren said. "And besides, what exactly is a god, anyways?"

Morgan remained thoughtfully silent for some time, mulling over the unexpected question. "Someone powerful, I suppose," she finally answered. "Someone worshipped by others."

"But you told me once that Naga herself insisted that she wasn't a goddess, despite her temples scattered across Ylisse and her flock heralding her as such," Soren reminded. "And what of the Fell Dragon? Was he not powerful? Did he not have fanatical devotees of his own?"

"What is a god, then?" Morgan asked impatiently.

"I've met one, and I still don't really know," Soren replied, remaining infuriatingly calm. "Even if I could answer that question, my idea of a god could be very different from Relic's. If we don't know what a god is, and we don't know what Relic meant by calling our unknown enemy a god, why worry about it?"

"Shouldn't we at least try to have an idea of what we're going up against?" Morgan countered.

"What does it matter? Your best guess would still only be a complete guess. Without knowing what makes a god a god, knowing whether or not our enemy is a god won't help us," Soren said. "Would you have us turn back?"

"Of course not!" Morgan said at once, though she couldn't help but sound uncertain. "It's just… I can't help but feel like we've made a critical mistake," she admittedly tiredly. "It almost feels like we're reliving the Radiant Hero's war. Battles breaking out all across the world, leaders of Tellius's countries coming together to put an end to the fighting, and suddenly, we're fighting against something so much greater that we are. Something that we can't even begin to understand."

"So, that's what's bothering you," Soren said softly. "This isn't about gods, or about how powerful our enemy might be. You feel unprepared, because even knowing that Tellius's mightiest, bravest, and wisest stand by us, you think our force might be incomplete."

"Isn't it?" Morgan asked, throwing caution to the winds. "The Radiant Hero was the one who defeated Ashera, and even that, he did with his holy sword in hand and Yune lending him her strength. Without…"

"Without Priam, and without Ragnell, what can we hope to accomplish if it truly is a god standing against us?" Soren guessed. "That's what you are wondering, correct?"

Morgan sighed. "Yeah. Though it sounds silly when you put it like that," she said listlessly.

"Listen, Morgan. Ike was special precisely because he was once an ordinary person," Soren said. "There might have been a few things that set him apart from everyone else. He might have been a Beorc born in a Laguz country, and he may have been born the son of an extraordinary warrior, but every person I have ever met has had his or her own story with a few unique details to set them apart. All in all, he was a normal man and a common mercenary. It was through his efforts and choices that he became something so much more."

"But it's who he became that mattered," Morgan reasoned.

"Of course it is. But why would that alone dictate who his descendants would become?" Soren countered. "Priam was not his ancestor, even if he carried his ancestor's sword. In fact, Ragnell was only an ordinary sword, too, until it was blessed by Ashera and made famous by its first wielder. It's no different from its sister blade, which you carry, or from your own sword, used to best the Fell Dragon and now blessed by Tellius's goddess made whole."

Morgan looked away sadly. Again, she was reminded of how little the old tactician respected their fallen comrade. "I suppose you're right," she agreed softly. "Priam wasn't his ancestor. He was nothing like his ancestor, was he?" Despite her best efforts, she could not keep the accusatory tone out of her words.

Soren looked as if he had been slapped. Then he closed his eyes and bowed his head. He appeared to be trembling, and Morgan was fairly certain that it had nothing to do with the rain or the low temperature.

"I'm sorry," she apologized meekly, already regretting her harsh words. "I didn't mean it like…"

"In many ways, Priam was more like Ike than I would have liked," Soren interrupted calmly. He spoke steadily, but there was a slight, only barely discernable tremor in his voice. "But that is beside the point. Say, hypothetically, that we had all the time in the world. We could return to Ylisse and seek out another of Ike's descendants, removed by two dozen generations or more. We could return to Silent Grove, too, and reclaim Ragnell. Would that make you more comfortable, given that you would know next to nothing about the man or woman fighting beside us, or of the life he or she had led?"

"I… I guess not," Morgan admitted.

"You see, I made the same mistake once. I valued a bloodline more than it as truly worth," Soren explained. "It took centuries for me to learn how wrong I was, long centuries of grief and of hurting people who deserved better. The truth is… you could very well be right. When we reach Wyverns' Crag, maybe we _will_ find ourselves needing a hero of Ike's caliber. But that doesn't mean it has to be someone of Ike's blood, nor does it mean that someone of Ike's blood could have been the hero we needed."

Morgan considered her new mentor's words carefully. Truthfully, she had already thought along the same lines herself, but hearing him say it aloud somewhat eased her doubts, even if it could not completely erase them. "I suppose you're right," she finally conceded. "Between all of the allies we've met here and all of my friends from Ylisse, we might just have all the heroes we need."

"We do," Soren said, without the slightest trace of doubt. "And if you doubt that, perhaps you're not looking in the right place."

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" Morgan asked, confused.

"Didn't you say before that listening to me hasn't led you wrong so far?" Soren reminded, opening his eyes and recovering his poise. "If you still believe that, then please trust my judgment on this. Our little band of reckless fools will have exactly the hero it needs."

Morgan stared at him for a moment longer, measuring his words. "Alright," she agreed.

The rain was beginning to lighten, but it hardly made a difference to Morgan, for her robes were already thoroughly drenched. Feeling rather stiff, she stretched and yawned, then tried in vain to wipe her face dry. When that failed, she cast her mind about in search of a distraction, and found herself thinking of Soren's earlier words. "Hey, Soren? When you said we could go back to Ylisse and search for another of the Radiant Hero's descendants, did you really mean it?" she asked.

"It was hypothetical," Soren replied. "I don't know where we'd even begin such a search."

"I mean, did he _have_ other descendants?" Morgan asked. "I thought Priam was the last."

Soren considered her question carefully, looking as if he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to answer. "I didn't remain with Priam because of Ike," he finally admitted, though he spoke slowly and with seeming reluctance.

"I didn't mean to pry," Morgan apologized hastily, finding that Soren's discomfort was contagious.

"It's alright, Morgan. I think… I think I want you to know the truth," Soren decided. "Ike and his wife had two sons. He named his firstborn after his father, Greil. He named his second son after me. The second son left Azure Pyre not long after reaching adulthood. I visited Soren once in Ferox, where he had started a family of his own. What later became of him and his descendants after that, I do not know."

"So, Ike could still have descendants in Ferox. Or anywhere, really, after all these centuries," Morgan realized.

"Indeed. I remained with Priam because he was something more than that," Soren said. "Do you remember asking me about Eirene?"

Morgan blinked, confused by the sudden change of subject. "Yeah, I remember," she replied.

"Greil and his wife were both quite young when they passed away. They left behind their only child, their daughter, Eirene. She was only twelve at the time," Soren continued. "Ike soon lost his wife as well, leaving him alone with his granddaughter. I tried to help them where I could, and over the years, Eirene and I grew closer than I had imagined possible."

"Wait. You fell in love with your best friend's _granddaughter_?" Morgan asked disbelievingly.

"I know. It was foolish. Senseless. Scandalous," Soren said, smiling faintly. "That's what I told myself, anyways. She didn't care, though, and when I felt her drawing closer… well, you know how I am. I tried to push her away, only she wouldn't go. In the end, it was Ike himself who persuaded me to stop hiding, not long before he himself passed on."

"Then Priam wasn't Ike's last descendant," Morgan realized aloud. "He was _your_ last descendant, wasn't he?" As she spoke, she remembered the other story Soren had shared with her, not long after Priam's death. Suddenly, she began to see that story in a new light, too. "And Nestor…"

"Nestor was my grandson," Soren admitted.

"But not only that," Morgan said slowly. "You said he left grandchildren behind when he fell in battle. He wasn't just your grandson. He was branded, wasn't he? That's why you've remained with his descendants for all these centuries."

"I'm not proud of it," Soren admitted. "When I married Eirene, I understood that I would lose her one day, and I thought I had accepted it. Even when the plague claimed her before her time, I grieved, but I was able to move on, holding onto the warmest of our shared memories. I thought I was content. Then Nestor was born: a perfect student who grew to embody the best I could remember of Ike, and a friend and partner with hundreds of years before him."

"Hundreds of years that were stolen from him," Morgan whispered. "And through all of the centuries that have gone by, you've been waiting and hoping for another Nestor to come along." As she spoke, she felt a strange, hollow ache in her heart. She finally understood why Priam could never seem to impress Soren, and though it all seemed perfectly unreasonable, she could not help but sympathize with her grief-ridden friend.

But Soren wasn't nearly was willing to forgive himself. "I watched them go about their lives, decade after decade, and all I could ever see was what they lacked," he whispered. "They all fell short, in one way or another, and none of them ever carried the brand. None of them could ever measure up to Nestor in my eyes. I knew it wasn't fair to them. I knew that they were their own people, good people finding their own way in their own lives, but I found it impossible to move past my hopes. Impossible not to feel disappointed."

"Did… did Priam know?" Morgan asked hesitantly.

"No," Soren replied, shaking his head. "Nestor's children knew, of course, when they matured and found themselves appearing older than their father. His grandchildren may have heard the rumors later, too. But after that, the truth just faded away. Maybe it was for the best. I often wondered if actually changed their lives for the better, knowing that they were descended from Ike. What difference would it have made if they knew that Laguz blood ran through their veins, as well, even if it was the blood of King Dheginsea?"

"King Dheginsea," Morgan murmured, trying to place the familiar name. Then her eyes widened. "You mean King Goldoa's father?" she exclaimed. "You told me you didn't know who your parents were!"

"And I did not, at least until the day we reunited with your sister and friends in the forest," Soren said. "I didn't find out until Kurth told me, though in hindsight, I feel like I should have guessed it sooner."

"You were the missing son of King Ashnard," Morgan guessed, quickly piecing the rest of the story together.

"A bit ironic, isn't it?" Soren remarked. "When I fought against Daein's Mad King during the war, neither of us recognized the other. It really goes to show just how foolish I was, hoping for one of my descendants to become another Nestor rather than accepting them for who they were."

"But that's not really the same," Morgan protested. "You weren't hoping for them to be exactly like Nestor. You were just tired of being left behind. You were hoping for them to be born branded so that you wouldn't have to watch them grow old and die."

"And that was my folly. I should have known better," Soren said with a short, self-deprecating laugh. "Even had one of them been born branded, who knows if he and I would have shared a connection? And I'm not alone now, am I? I've met someone who wanted to learn from me, and who I've managed to learn from, too. Someone who I can confide in now, and someone who I've shared the most unlikely adventure with. Someone who was neither branded, nor related in any way to my old friend. She's simply herself, complete with her own quirks."

"Umm… good quirks, I hope," Morgan said, blushing slightly.

"Some of them, maybe," Soren replied cryptically.

"But I won't live forever, you know," Morgan reminded.

"So what? Nestor didn't, and neither will I," Soren shrugged. "I've already spent far too long hiding from grief and loss."

"This is coming from the man who once told me that there was no meaning to life beyond death?" Morgan smirked.

"Still true, in a sense. Life doesn't have to have a meaning on its own. It is simply what we make of it," Soren said, after a moment's thought.

"Well, that works for me," Morgan decided. She hopped to her feet, looking to the seas ahead and the jagged, snowbound island looming in the distance. "Though I'm beginning to think I should have made something a little less exciting out of it," she admitted.

"Look forward to when this is all over, then," Soren suggested, similarly rising to his feet. "And go dry yourself off. We'll be landing soon, and I doubt you'll enjoy marching across a frozen island in waterlogged clothing."

"Alright," Morgan relented. With a weary groan, she made her way across the slippery deck and disappeared into the cabin, leaving Soren to stare at Wyverns' Crag alone.

Soren remained at the bow of the ship, barely noticing his own waterlogged robes. Strangely enough, he found that he felt warmer than ever. As he continued watching the fast-approaching island, he grew more and more confident that Morgan's doubts were unfounded.

* * *

The Crimean ship approached the island slowly, navigating through the rocky outcrops scattered beyond the stony beaches in search of a place to land, until a broad wooden dock came into view. The surrounding area appeared desolate, devoid of even the slightest signs of life, but the dock itself seemed sturdy and fairly new.

Morgan was the first to disembark, quickly stepping down onto the dock with her tome clenched in hand. As the others quickly followed suit, she began inspecting her surroundings warily, half-expecting an ambush. No ambush came, and soon, only Symphony and Iris remained aboard the ship.

"We'll be back within twelve hours," Morgan promised, silently hoping that they would be back a lot sooner than that. "If we haven't at least gotten word to you by then, or if the slightest bit of trouble reaches this ship, just leave. Use your warp powder and head back to Nasir's manor."

"Right," Symphony acknowledged. "Just take care of yourselves, too, you hear?"

"Don't worry about us," Iris agreed.

Once the others had finished saying their farewells, Morgan led the others down the dock and began marching through the soft snowbanks, trying her best to ignore the lingering chill from the grasping slush. They soon came upon what looked to be a worn path in the snow, though any individual footprints had long-ago blended into a single, smooth indentation.

A loud and feral shriek split the air, and Morgan looked up to see a pair of wyverns flying overhead. The others stopped, watching nervously as she studied the wyverns.

"No riders, if that's what you were wondering," Valent offered.

"They look to be wild," Morgan agreed. "If we don't bother them, they should leave us alone."

"If you're worried, we can chase them off," Caelia suggested.

"Don't," Morgan said quickly. "There could be more lurking nearby. This is their home, after all."

"That seems like a good reason not to be here," Severa muttered.

Ignoring her sister, Morgan turned back to Valent. "Prince, do you think you and your friends can follow us from the sky without bothering the wyverns? If you can keep an eye on the road for us, it might make it easier for us to find our way."

"Sure," Valent agreed. Without another word, he shot up into the sky. He was quickly followed by the other hawks, save for Kyrie, who remained at Caelia's side.

"If any of the Redeemers are flying astride the wyverns, they will notice Prince Valent and his friends," Kurth warned.

"If any Redeemers are flying overhead, they'll notice us soon anyways," Morgan pointed out. "We can't exactly blend in against all this snow. At least this way we'll see them coming."

They resumed their march, but after only a few minutes, Valent abruptly rejoined them. "Morgan, we found something," he said urgently. "Want to hop onto that winged horse of yours and come take a look?"

"Found something? Like what?" Morgan asked cautiously.

"Something odd. It doesn't look dangerous, just… odd," Valent said. "Come on." He set off, leaving Morgan without any choice but to climb up behind Severa.

"We'll be right back," Morgan promised, before she and her sister took the sky in pursuit of the excited hawk prince.

* * *

Severa gingerly set Catria down atop a snowy peak beside Valent. The ground was strangely marred by large patches of ice. It looked as if the snow had been melted at several points, forming large craters before freezing again into frozen puddles. "What happened here?" Severa asked, awed.

"No idea. Thought that might be a clue," Valent said, gesturing towards a metallic object, glinting in the meager light where it laid half-buried in the snow.

Morgan slipped off of Catria's back and walked carefully across one of the sheets of ice, coming to a rest beside the debris. Once there, she lifted the two halves of the sundered platinum scepter for Severa and Valent to see. "Severa, is this what I think it is?" she asked.

"The Dominion Scepter," Severa said in a hushed tone, recognizing the ancient weapon at once. "What happened to it? And what's it doing here?"

Morgan shrugged helplessly, for she didn't really have any answers to offer. In the end, she stashed the ruined scepter in Catria's saddlebags and climbed up behind her sister once more, and the two of them rejoined their friends below as Valent flew up and resumed scouting the road ahead.

* * *

The island's invaders continued their march uncontested. There were no Redeemers to be found, and the wyverns willingly kept their distance as the hawk Laguz flew past, guiding their companions below along the road as they traveled inland through the mountainous terrain. After nearly an hour's march, the winding road finally spilled out into a valley.

The entire valley appeared to be caught somewhere between a military encampment and a small town. A wide road paved in cobblestone ran across the length of the valley, barely visible through the thin dusting of snow. Large and sturdy canvas tents had been erected along the central road, and in neat rows perpendicular to it. The tents were punctuated by a few simple and inelegant wooden buildings with sturdy brick foundations.

There was a castle lying at the end of the road, which came to an end just beyond the castle's gateless archway. It was the only entrance to the surprisingly small castle, which seemed to consist of a single spire set atop of a main building. The spire itself looked as if it could only contain four or five rooms at most. Despite its small size, the castle appeared unnaturally foreboding, with its walls of finely cut and polished black stone bricks.

As soon as they stepped into the valley, Morgan gestured sharply, bringing the procession to a halt, then waved towards the hawks circling overhead.

"Nothing," Valent said, answering her question before she could ask it aloud. "No sign of any people, or eidolons, for that matter."

"This place was only recently abandoned," one of the hawks, either Cody or Celt, added. "Some of these roads were used not too long ago."

"The Redeemers and their phantoms, on their way to the dock," Morgan guessed.

"Not all of them," Soren interrupted. "There's too many tents here for the handful of Beorc who invaded Melior alongside the phantoms, unless the phantoms were the ones resting in these tents."

"Phantoms don't need to sleep," Harmony said, confirming Soren's suspicions.

"Well, if there were more of the Redeemers, they didn't stick around," Valent said. He gestured towards a particularly large building, standing amidst a cluster of smaller buildings. "There's a big building over there that looks like a warehouse. You should be able to make it out from here. I only took a peek at it, but it looked empty, and there was snow piled up just inside the doorway."

"So when they left, they were either out of supplies, or they took the rest with them," Morgan reasoned. "Maybe they were sent to join their allies in the Divine Citadel."

"Or maybe someone sent them away," Harmony suggested. "There aren't that many tents. If they were all occupied, there could have been maybe another fifty people living here. That wouldn't have made much of a difference in their invasion."

"Could it be a trap?" Lucina asked.

Morgan frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think so," she finally decided. "Unless they've figured out how to turn invisible, they won't catch us off guard, and a few dozen soldiers can't pose much of a threat to us. Let's go take a look at the castle."

The young tactician began leading the way through the abandoned campsite, though she slowed to peer through the windows of two of the smaller buildings. Her confidence grew as she recognized the equipment within and how they were laid out.

"What is it?" Carina asked nervously, her tail switching sporadically.

"There's a forge in this building," Morgan answered calmly. "Anvils, too. It's a smithy, and the last building we passed by was a tailor's workshop."

"So what?" Valent asked impatiently.

"So the people living here weren't all soldiers," Morgan explained. "There were blacksmiths and tailors living here, and I bet if we were to search the other buildings, we'd find a kitchen and mess hall, too."

"They must have had shipwrights, as well," Soren added. "Remember the ships we found, abandoned in that port back in Crimea? They were designed to be powered by phantoms. The Redeemers must have built those ships themselves, likely at the very dock where we landed."

"So you believe this village was populated with laborers rather than soldiers?" Kurth interpreted.

"That would explain why we haven't seen any training yards or equipment," Cordelia noted.

"Well, they might have another camp somewhere on the island for their wyvern riders and their wyverns," Morgan said. "They wouldn't have wanted to keep the wyverns so close, especially before they were fully tamed. I don't think the wyvern riders who survived the Phoenician War returned here, though. We would have seen some sign of them by now."

"They were probably sent away along with the laborers. Or perhaps they fled when the last of their leaders defected or perished," Soren guessed.

Now confident that they wouldn't encounter any enemies before reaching the castle, Morgan resumed walking towards the looming fortress, setting a brisk pace for their march. She didn't slow again until they were past the last of the tents, with a clear view of Castle Acheron and its impressive yet inconsequential walls.

And a clear view of the eight suits of darksteel armor, spaced evenly around the walls, reaching all the way to the mountainous cliff face. Four more waited just within the castle's courtyard.

All twelve phantoms reacted immediately to their presence, drawing their swords in unison and conjuring spheres of golden flame to engulf their free gauntlets.


	14. Chapter 9

**~ Chapter 9 ~**

Severa was the first to react, immediately pushing past the rest of her companions to stand before Morgan, bracing her lance defensively. "More phantoms," she griped. "Couldn't the Redeemers have come up with something a little more creative?"

As if in answer to her complaint, the phantoms suddenly straightened. Golden flames erupted from the seams of their armor, spreading to shroud the constructs entirely. Each suit of armor then stretched and swelled until it stood half again as tall as it had been initially. The golden flames then dwindled, though they did not fade entirely. Instead, the phantoms remained covered with a thin layer of gleaming, translucent flames.

"It looks like they did," Morgan offered mildly. She drew Eternity, guessing that these unusual phantoms would be more powerful than any they had battled previously, and knowing that, more than ever, she would need her sword's divinely inspired magic. The blessed weapon obliged her, wreathing its glimmering silver edge in azure flames, seeming cognizant of the otherworldly presences drawing closer.

But before Severa or Morgan, or any of their companions, could move to strike, four searing darts of flame soared out through the castle's archway. One caught each of the two sisters standing at the front of their force, and two more soared past them, finding Kurth and Nasir just as the two dragons were beginning to transform.

Morgan stumbled away, shaken by the blistering spell, but robes had defeated the worst of the magical ambush. She began to turn, instinctively checking on her allies, but as she looked up, she noticed the four phantoms standing within the castle preparing to fire again. "Look out!" she cried out, diving to the ground just in time to avoid another barrage of potent fire magic.

Then a torrent of magical flames flowed past Morgan, soaring in the opposite direction as Yashiro retaliated with a fiery invocation of his own.

The emperor's roaring inferno seemed to swallow two of the phantoms whole, but the unflinching constructs simply stepped through the flames, apparently unharmed. More short bursts of golden flames poured out through the archway, forcing Begnion's emperor aside.

Mere moments later, the eight phantoms stationed outside the castle reached their enemies with their own blades readied. One charged directly at Morgan, towering over her and raising its sword high. Soren hurled a vicious gust forward to intercept the phantom. Unfazed, the deadly construct pushed through the magical wind, only to find Severa standing between it and its target.

The bold lancer didn't wait for the phantom to readjust itself. She swept her lance outwards in a wide, slashing motion, knocking the phantom's sword aside, before retracting her weapon and thrusting it into the phantom's chest with as much force as she could muster. But to her surprise, her lance deflected uselessly off the phantom's burning breastplate, leaving only slight dent that was barely visible. The phantom countered quickly, and Severa had no choice but to back away, blocking the phantom's counterattacks and hoping that her pilfered darksteel shield would hold.

Behind Severa, Morgan got to her feet, hardly noticing the snow as it clung to her robes. As soon as she found her footing, she sprinted towards the phantom, too, weaving around her sister as she went. The phantom turned to meet her, and Eternity's flame-wrapped silver edge glistened as it clashed against the phantom's fine darksteel blade.

A painful shock ran up Morgan's arm, and she nearly lost her grip on her sword. The phantom lifted its free gauntlet, threatening to break their stalemate with a quick spell, but the young tactician retreated quickly, twirling away and swiping Eternity upwards. Though the awkward angle left her unable to slice through the phantom's armored wrist, her blow left a deep gouge, and the gathering magical energy spilled out erratically, brutally stinging both combatants.

Morgan backed away from the spinning golden flames, sliding Alondite free of its sheath as she did. She sent a powerful shockwave burst forth, throwing the phantom to the ground, prone. Knowing that her advantage would be fleeting at best, Morgan charged again, leaving a haunting trail of sapphire flames in her wake as she lashed out repeatedly at her vulnerable foe with both of her weapons.

"Morgan, look out!" Lucina called.

Heeding her friend's warning, Morgan brought her dance to an abrupt halt, rolling past the phantom as another barrage of flaming darts soared overhead. She turned as she came out of roll, pivoting powerfully and slamming both her swords into the phantom's damaged leggings in quick succession. Again, she found that she couldn't quite cut through, but the impact was enough to trip her resilient adversary, and when it next rose, it could no longer walk steadily.

A stream of crushing frozen spheres rained down on the limping phantom from above. Its moment of weakness was the only opening that Nah needed, and she fell upon it in a fury, forcing the beaten monstrosity to its knees. Not yet finished, the Manakete then dropped atop the phantom, smashing it into the ground. The beaten phantom shuddered in her clutches and slowly ground to a halt, releasing wisps of golden vapor from the many cracks in its armor.

* * *

Though Morgan had scrambled aside when Nah joined the fray, she remained nearby, watching the battle until she was confident that her Manakete friend had the situation in hand. She then turned her attention to more pressing matters, for her allies were struggling against seven more of the fiendish constructs while four more waited within the castle, continuing their relentless magical onslaught.

Just as Morgan was considering storming the castle courtyard herself, a shadow fell over her, alerting her to the mighty black dragon soaring overhead. A sense of dread fell over her. "Wait!" she cried out, remembering all too clearly the time when three of the deadly phantoms had gotten the best of Goldoa's mighty king. Fearing that Kurth would not hear or obey her, Morgan gritted her teeth and sprinted for the archway, determined to at least fight by his side.

A storm of fireballs stopped her in her tracks, forcing her to angle herself behind the walls for cover. Then a strong wind buffeted her, nearly knocking her off her feet. Leaning against the wall, she looked up to find Kurth towering over her. "What is it?" the Laguz king growled in his draconic, yet strangely mellow voice.

Morgan scanned the battlefield quickly before gesturing emphatically towards where the hawk Laguz and Caelia appeared to be struggling with a pair of the deadly phantoms. "Prince Valent needs your help," she explained quickly. "Leave the ones inside the castle to me!"

Kurth eyed her curiously, but to her relief, he obeyed without question, leaving Morgan standing alone by the castle archway. Morgan wasn't left alone for long, though, for as she tried to slip through the castle perimeter once more, Severa saw her intent and rushed to her side. Again, a wave of volatile flames forced them aside.

"We won't make it through like this!" Severa warned, shouting to be heard over the din of battle.

Morgan knew that her sister was right, and began searching for another way through. "Wait a second, where's Catria?" she demanded, suddenly realizing that their Pegasus was missing.

"I told her to pull back. She can't keep up with these blasted things, remember?" Severa explained. She pointed upwards, leading Morgan's gaze to where their loyal Pegasus awaited them, drifting just beyond the battlefield's edge.

Knowing that they wouldn't have enough time to summon Catria back to their side, Morgan began searching for her mother, unwilling to surrender the idea of flying over the walls. But when she spotted Soren and Yashiro standing nearby, doing their best to help Felicia with the phantom she was battling, another idea presented itself.

"Soren! Emperor Yashiro!" Morgan yelled. Both mages turned to her, and once she had their attention, she gestured at the archway. "Cover us!"

Soren seemed to understand at once, and sent his next spell soaring through the archway even as Yashiro stared at the castle, uncomprehending. Yashiro caught on quickly, though, and followed Soren's conjured tornado with a large wave of fire.

At the same time, Morgan unleashed her own spell towards the phantom Felicia was battling, blasting it to the ground. Then, with the phantoms inside the castle temporarily blinded by Soren and Yashiro's spells, Morgan rushed through the archway, keeping her head low. Severa followed her closely, and both breached the castle's perimeter before the four phantoms noticed their approach.

* * *

Even with Soren and Yashiro doing their best to help, Felicia found herself unable to gain any sort of advantage over her durable opponent. The deadly phantom nearly matched her speed, and shrugged off each of their attacks with seeming impunity.

Then, without warning, both mages behind her ceased attacking. Felicia backed away in alarm, suspecting that without their support, her position had just become far more tenuous.

The phantom moved to pursue her right as Morgan's spell struck home. Evidently unprepared for an attack from behind, the phantom toppled forward.

With a gleeful shout, Felicia surged forward, slashing wildly. The phantom recovered gracefully enough, springing back to its feet, but Felicia pressed it back relentlessly, doing her best to keep it from regaining its advantage. Soren and Yashiro began casting again, too, driving the phantom back even further.

Their attacks continued to prove ineffectual, but before the phantom could fully recover from its apparent disadvantage, a large darksteel ring moved to hover over it, lying parallel to the ground. At Harmony's command, Relic's halo dipped low, looping around the phantom's torso before tugging the ensnared victim towards her. The phantom tried to hold its ground, but Relic's halo proved stronger, knocking it over once more. The halo then split into four, leaving only the ring glowing with blue sigils hovering above the phantom. Water gushed forth furiously, pinning the phantom in place as Harmony attempted to quench the golden flames. Whether because she feared to push her powers too far or because her spell was simply not strong enough, the phantom's flames only burned brighter, hissing angrily in protest.

But the phantom offered no further resistance as Felicia and Harmony both closed in upon it, stabbing at it repeatedly until finally they pierced its armor and stilled its wild thrashing.

* * *

"You're a tough one, aren't you?" Valent remarked, panting slightly as he drew back. He hid his dismay as the phantom turned to leer at him; shockingly, his razor-sharp talons were proving woefully inadequate against his seemingly indestructible foe, leaving only minor scratches that the phantom had yet to acknowledge.

Unsurprisingly, the phantom answered not with words, but with its blade. The construct's fine longsword darted forward, driving Valent further back. Then the phantom followed its sword with a burst of fire magic. The hawk prince performed an evasive midair roll, but the seething flames scorched several of his feathers as they soared past him.

One of his friends, a large, heavyset male hawk, took the opportunity to tackle the phantom from behind. Even that forceful blow seemed to be an effort in futility, for the phantom only flinched momentarily before spinning about and slicing a deep wound in the offending attacker's wing.

Valent dove towards the phantom, desperately hoping to save his friend. He slammed into the phantom, and felt as if he had instead slammed into a thick brick wall. Dazed, Valent briefly wondered how the phantom could have held its ground so stubbornly. He pressed on anyways, seizing the phantom's arms in his talons and dragging it up into the air.

Only then did he realize that someone else was also tugging at the phantom. Across from him, Celt had grasped the phantom's other arm. When he realized that he and Celt had unintentionally pinned the phantom between them, he let out a victorious shriek, a battle cry that Celt eagerly echoed. The two spun in a coordinated circle before releasing their captive prey.

The flailing phantom plummeted thirty feet before crashing unceremoniously to the ground. Then, before either of the two hawks could celebrate their victory, the phantom leapt back to its feet, apparently unharmed. A spurt of fire shot up into the sky, catching Valent squarely in the chest.

A smaller hawk glided by the phantom, and Caelia leapt from Kyrie's back, plunging her dagger directly into the phantom's neck. She retracted her diminutive weapon and stabbed again, then slashed sideways. Her blade caught in the seam between the phantom's helm and breastplate, slicing through the phantom's neck on one side and tilting its helm sidewise.

The phantom hardly slowed as it brought its sword sweeping inward, then thrusting it outward towards Caelia. The silver-haired princess, rather than backing away, dove at the phantom's legs instead. At the same time, Kyrie slammed into the phantom's torso from behind, and the two of them combined were able to upset the phantom's balance again, sending Caelia's dagger tumbling free from the phantom's torn neck. Caelia retrieved her dagger and spun, this time slicing through and decapitating the phantom.

To her horror, the phantom fought on, even without its head. The mutilated construct flailed wildly with its sword, and continued firing off blasts of fire randomly. Kyrie dropped to the ground, inadvertently plunging herself into a deep snow-drift as the phantom raised its burning gauntlet high. A numbing chill ran through her wings as the snow melted and soaked her feathers, but she fared better than the rest of her Laguz companions, who were desperately weaving to avoid the searing flames.

Only Valent was daring enough to dive through the erratic firestorm. Seizing the phantom's extended arm, he dragged the construct brutally to the ground. He then raked his talons against his enemy's back for good measure. "Just die!" he roared in frustration, as the phantom made to rise yet again.

A jet of roiling black mist blew past, sweeping the damaged phantom aside as Kurth joined the fray. Kurth then turned and struck at the other nearby phantom with his tail, launching it into the air.

The phantom crashed loudly into the castle's walls, leaving an ominous crack. As it fell, it twisted to land evenly on both of its armored greaves, then slung a fiery blast at the dragon king.

Though Kurth keenly felt the sting of the blistering spell, he shook it off easily enough, squaring off against the phantom as the hawk Laguz began to circle them both. The phantom charged anyways, despite being so grossly outnumbered. Like its fallen kin, the unnatural creature proved impossibly resilient, shrugging off vicious blows one after another.

Only a few feet away, Caelia turned away from the battle and raced to Kyrie's side just as the hawk was pulling herself free of the snow. Caelia quickly brushed the last of the clinging snow from her partner's wings, then glanced back towards where Kurth and the other hawks were battling the remaining phantom. "This is getting to be a bit ridiculous," she admitted quietly.

Kyrie said nothing, but nudged Caelia's shoulder in a gentle, yet insistent manner. Understanding at once, Caelia climbed astride her partner's back. Then, though her dampened wings remained uncomfortably numb, the small hawk Laguz took to the skies once more.

"Wait, Kyrie," Caelia called, realizing that something was amiss. "Where are we going?"

In answer, Kyrie jerked her head upward, drawing Caelia's attention to a lone Pegasus rider above them who appeared to be approaching the castle's walls by herself.

"She's going after the ones inside by herself? Is she mad?" Caelia gasped.

* * *

Carina was no stranger to hesitation and confusion. As a former steward to the throne of Gallia, descended from a long line of former stewards, she knew all too well the pressure to find a way when none was apparent and to make a decision when no option seemed quite right. She had been as surprised as any when her king passed away without an apparent heir, designating her his successor, but never once did she shy away from the responsibility.

Yet at heart, she was much like the rest of her kind. There was something pure about the thrill of combat that resonated with her, the same simple urges that resonated with all of her kind. It was so much simpler, so much _easier_ , to face challenges head-on, fangs bared.

And so the young queen of Gallia was at a complete loss when she found her strength somehow lacking. The deadly adversary that she faced now was far beyond any foe she had battled before, even the phantoms she had destroyed at Pearlsand Pass or in the streets of Melior. Her attacks could barely scratch the stalwart phantom, and it was all she could do to keep from being eviscerated.

Bereft of a better course of action, Carina fell back upon one of the oldest truisms of Laguz warfare: when striking at an enemy wasn't enough, simply strike at it again. Maintaining her shapeshift, she danced agilely around the phantom's blade, lunging at any opening she could find.

Slipping beneath the phantom's outstretched blade, Carina dug her claws into the phantom's legs with all her strength, savagely tearing at them. The metallic plates screeched in protest, and the phantom's left greave seemed to cave in, ever so slightly. Carina then flipped herself upward, slamming her body against the phantom's head.

But the staunch and relentless phantom was incapable of feeling any sort of pain. It took a step back, digging its wounded greave into the hard soil beneath the snow and bracing itself. The feline Laguz simply bounced off of her unyielding foe. As she fell, the phantom struck, driving its blade deep into her hind leg.

Carina instinctively twisted away, inadvertently widening the wound as she did. She ignored the burning sensation shooting through her thigh, and pounced again, seizing the phantom's sword gauntlet in her jaw. She bit down hard, crushing the metal with her fangs. The phantom raised its arm and swung it from side to side, trying to dislodge her, but she only bit down harder and began to flail at the construct with her claws, scuffing the phantom's torso and visor.

Even over the horrific noise, her sensitive ears picked up the sound of hurried footsteps against the snow, the sound of a pair of lightly armored Beorc approaching. Then the softer footsteps stopped as the heavier footfalls of another phantom cut them off. Far from discouraged, the sound of her reinforcements being cut off only reminded Carina that she had allies in similarly dire straits, and she only thrashed more violently.

Then she found herself soaring through the air, having torn the phantom's sword gauntlet straight off. The gauntlet's fingers went slack, and the sword slid loose, falling to the ground. Carina righted herself gracefully and prepared to finish off her disarmed foe.

Only the phantom wasn't curled up on the ground as any Beorc foe would have been. Instead, it stood straight, facing her with its remaining gauntlet extended. Sizzling flames shot forth, engulfing Carina before she could react.

The beast Laguz were notoriously vulnerable to fire magic, and even their queen was no exception. Carina let out a pained shriek, writhing in agony, as the sizzling golden flames took hold of her fur. She only barely maintained the presence of mind to roll aside as a second fiery blast sailed her way.

Not far away, Lucina, who had been battling another of the phantoms beside Owain, saw the Laguz queen's predicament. Trusting in her cousin to hold his own against the phantom, Lucina broke away, protectively sweeping her cape out in front of her as she intercepted the one-armed phantom's third spell. She pushed through the magical heat, pausing only to unclip a healing elixir from her belt and flip it towards the fallen Laguz queen.

The phantom lifted its intact arm defensively, but Lucina simply lowered her aim slightly, stabbing beneath the meager defense and into the phantom's lower abdomen. Falchion sheared through the phantom's chest plate before lodging itself deep within the phantom's torso.

A light weight pressed down on Lucina's shoulders. She looked up just in time to see Carina leaping over her to land atop the phantom. This time, the phantom crumbled beneath the savage onslaught, and shreds of black metal flew through the air as the enraged Laguz began tearing the animated suit of armor into pieces.

Lucina then turned back to Owain, only to find him scrambling to stay out of the way. The phantom they had been battling together was now pinned to the ground by a white dragon. The phantom struggled against the dragon's heavy claw to no avail as an obscuring white mist pooled around it. Nearby, a second white dragon battled another of the phantoms, with Harmony and Felicia skirting around it, waiting their turn to strike.

The Ylissean princess then glanced toward each of the remaining four phantoms in turn, trying to determine which of her allies needed her help the most. When she saw the open castle archway, she saw that the phantoms within were no longer joining in the attack. A jolt of fear shot through her when she realized that neither Severa nor Morgan were anywhere to be seen.

Without a word to her other companions, she sprinted straight for the castle itself, hoping desperately that she wasn't already too late.

* * *

Severa and Morgan each dove to one side as they crossed through the castle threshold, avoiding the magical flames soaring overhead. The four phantoms shuffled aside, separating into two pairs as they moved out of Soren and Yashiro's line of fire.

"Was there a second part to this plan!?" Severa yelled, promptly charging to engage two of the phantoms.

Morgan didn't have an answer for her sister, and only drew her swords. Unlike Severa, she waited patiently for her two opponents to come to her, moving only at the last possible second. She avoided the first phantom's thrust, then began pacing it, taking care to keep it between her and her second opponent.

Though Morgan was able to keep the second phantom at a safe distance, the closer phantom quickly reminded her of its superior strength and speed. Morgan knew that the phantom would eventually overpower her, especially with half her attention diverted in keeping the second phantom out of arm's reach, and began studying her surroundings, searching for something she could use to her advantage.

But the courtyard was very nearly barren, and the stone bricks lining it were almost perfectly even. The castle's open doorway loomed ahead in a dreadfully uninviting manner, and try as she might, Morgan could not see another solution.

Abruptly, the second phantom sprang aside, looping around Morgan's immediate foe. The closer phantom took a step back at the same time, sliding in the opposite direction.

Morgan was ready for them, and before the two phantoms could pin her, she charged at her new opponent. Eternity and Alondite shot up, forming a perfect cross to catch the phantom's blade as it descended. The stubborn contract refused to release its weapon, and with all her strength, Morgan was able to drag it back into the path of the first phantom.

Outmaneuvered, the phantom toppled to the ground, but as it fell, it twisted and fired a jet of golden flames upward. Morgan made no move to avoid the attack and allowed the spell to connect, allowing her robes to bear the brunt of the spell and leaving herself free to punish the prone phantom. A sheet of golden flames burst angrily from the phantom's chest as Eternity tore into it. The azure flames coating the silver sword began to spread, clinging to the deep gash in the phantom's breastplate.

The unwounded phantom ruthlessly tossed its damage companion aside as it charged, attacking furiously and sending Morgan back on her heels. She backed away, parrying desperately with both of her weapons. Though she knew she was losing ground quickly, she was far from disheartened, for at the very least, she was no longer outnumbered.

But even as that thought crossed her mind, the fallen phantom leapt back to its feet, seemingly oblivious to the massive wound it had sustained. "That's impossible," Morgan whispered feebly, watching in horror as the damaged phantom began advancing towards her once more.

* * *

Once Severa found herself within striking distance of the two nearby phantoms, she began regretting her brash move. The two agile and impossibly strong phantoms nearly overcame her immediately, and though she remained slightly faster, she could only barely keep ahead of them, using the longer reach of her lance to slow her enemies' approach.

Like Morgan, Severa quickly understood that she could not hope to hold out against her powerful enemies for long. She was desperate to find even the slightest advantage, and when her next parry forced one phantom's sword aside, she lifted her shield in a feeble, half-hearted defense, practically disregarding the other phantom as she tried to finish off the first.

Once again, her lance deflected harmlessly off her victim's durable plating, and the lancer realized immediately that she had overextended herself. She withdrew, flinging her shield up as she did. The desperate ploy worked, turning the other phantom's sword aside, though the leaf-shaped barrier tumbled uselessly to the ground afterward, coming to a rest just out of her reach.

The two phantoms advanced cautiously, offering Severa surprising respect as neither rushed to press their advantage. Instead, they split up, moving to stand across from each other and trap their opponent between them. As they did, they left an apparent opening between Severa and her fallen shield.

Recognizing that they were baiting her into trying to retrieve her shield, Severa ignored it and barreled towards the phantom on her left, leading with her lance. The phantom lifted its sword to parry, but Passion slipped past it, stabbing deep into the phantom's skull-like visor. Severa retracted her weapon quickly, swinging the butt of her lance backward to slow the second phantom, then slid past the first, keeping her distance from its sword arm. Magical flames shot from the phantom's free gauntlet as she passed, splashing ineffectually against Severa's armor.

Once safely away from both phantoms' swords, Severa spun her lance, angling the shaft downward. It slammed into the nearest phantom's leg from behind, upsetting its balance ever so slightly. Then she stabbed the phantom again, throwing her weight behind the powerful thrust and driving the point of her lance deep into the phantom's back and exploding through the front of its chest.

With an impatient kick, Severa toppled her beaten foe, forcefully tugging her lance free. But the fight was far from over, and the phantom managed to catch itself as it fell, swiftly pulling itself back to its feet.

Severa let out a long, frustrated sigh as once again, she found herself standing between her two deadly adversaries.

* * *

Knowing that she didn't have long before her previously downed opponent rejoined the battle, Morgan rushed her immediate foe. Once again, she did not bother swerving aside when the phantom raised its free gauntlet to cast again. The magical flames caught Morgan squarely in the face, blinding her, but Alondite swept through the sizzling curtains, slamming into the phantom's visor, momentarily stunning the construct. Morgan then swung Eternity blindly, cutting a wide arc before burying the weapon's silver blade in her opponent's chest.

But even as the flames began to clear, the phantom Morgan had previously wounded moved to engage her once more. With growing desperation, Morgan lunged at the phantom, hoping to land the first strike. She stabbed both blades into the phantom's earlier chest wound, cutting through the back of the phantom's breastplate. She then snapped both blades outward, and her fine blades tore through the phantom's side, breaking the phantom in half.

Simultaneously, the phantom's sword dropped down, narrowly missing her head before slicing neatly through her protective garment.

Biting back a scream, Morgan scrambled backward. Alondite slipped from her hand, and she let Eternity fall to the floor a split second later as she clutched at her wounded shoulder. The remaining phantom, sensing victory, marched towards her, its greaves falling heavily against the brick-lined path.

Realizing that she could not hope to retrieve her swords in time, Morgan reached for her tome instead, unintentionally smearing the clothbound cover with her blood. A meager fireball sailed forth, failing to even slow the approaching phantom. Retreating further still, Morgan glanced pleadingly towards her sister for help, only to find that Severa was fully caught between her two foes, and only just keeping up with them.

A javelin spiraled down from above, striking one of Severa's opponents in the face and embedding itself in the phantom's visor. Cordelia then swept past the two phantoms, her Pegasus diving dangerously close to the ground and brutally kicking that phantom aside, before charging towards Morgan. The veteran knight pressed herself tightly against her Pegasus's back as they sped up and carefully aligned her lance. Her lance caught the phantom just below its arm, lifting it into the air.

Finding the phantom far heavier than she had expected, Cordelia was forced to lower her lance a second later, dropping the phantom back to the ground. She then banked hard and flung her lance at the downed phantom. The lance was far too unwieldy to be thrown accurately, but clipped the phantom's helm regardless, disorienting it further.

Morgan rushed for her fallen swords, despite her grievous wound. Even as her steadier hand closed around Eternity's hilt, she felt the warmth of healing magic course through her other shoulder, lessening the pain. She quickly retrieved Alondite as well, then descended upon the remaining phantom as it began to rise once more.

The phantom struck first, aiming not at Morgan, but for the now-distant Pegasus knight. A conjured blast of fire shot across the courtyard, catching Cordelia by the arm as she tried to invoke her healing staff a second time, knocking the staff from her grasp. The phantom then spun and braced itself just before Alondite's shockwave connected, defeating the attack easily, but allowing Morgan to close the remaining distance between them.

Morgan found her rhythm quickly, and her swords remained in constant motion as she whirled and danced around the phantom, slashing at it relentlessly from every angle she could find. She felt a slight sting in her side as the phantom managed to jab its sword through her wild flurry, but refused to stop, or even slow, taking the opportunity to smash both of her weapons into the phantom's exposed arm. Reversing her momentum, she timed her next attack perfectly, a backhanded swing that sheared off the phantom's sword gauntlet as it tried to retreat.

Abruptly, the young tactician then spun away from her battered foe, swiping Alondite in her sister's direction instead. "Severa!" she cried out.

Severa instinctively dropped to the ground, and the shockwave soared over her, slamming into one of the two phantoms she had been battling, dislodging Cordelia's javelin from its head. The phantom crumpled to the ground, and Severa somersaulted over it, twisting to bring her lance stabbing downward through its torso.

The impaled phantom only flipped itself back onto its feet, tearing Passion from Severa's grasp. "You can't be serious," she groaned. Resisting the temptation to immediately reclaim her lance, she dodged away as the phantom lunged at her, and scrambled to retrieve her shield and her mother's fallen javelin, posturing the two defensively as the phantom approached. This time, her adversary didn't bother trying to find a way past her defenses, and simply slashed its sword downward against her salvaged javelin, snapping the shaft cleanly in two.

Mindful of the other phantom, Severa glanced over to where it was readying a spell. Thankfully, Cordelia had already retrieved her own weapon and was quick to run down the phantom before it could finish its spell. Now safe to concentrate fully on the opponent in front of her, Severa raised her shield high, catching the phantom's next strike. With a forceful shove, she sent the phantom's sword spinning wide, then seized the quivering shaft of her lance. With a short hop, she threw herself downward against the end of precious lance, silently praying that it wouldn't simply fold under the added weight.

Passion held fast, and like a lever, it lifted the phantom off of its feet and falling forward to collapse over Severa's crouching form. She rolled past it, tugging her lance to drag the construct along as she narrowly avoided a sizzling bolt of fire. With one final tug, she pulled her lance free, spinning it over her head before slamming it into the phantom's back. The phantom struggled to stand once more, but Severa only smashed it again, and then a third time, caving in the construct's sturdy breastplate. The beaten phantom quivered ominously, then became perfectly still.

Severa rounded upon the other phantom to find her mother soaring overhead, carefully avoiding a stream of fireballs and unable to close in safely. But before she could join in the attack, a brown and silver blur shot past her. The phantom spun to face its new attacker, but Kyrie struck first, seizing the phantom by the legs before attempting to glide upward. Though she wasn't quite strong enough to lift the phantom off the ground, she managed to drag the phantom's legs out from under it, dropping it on its head.

Caelia dropped down beside the phantom, plunging her dagger into seam above the phantom's knee. She managed to stab it twice more before scampering away, mere inches ahead of the phantom's sword.

Though Caelia had not truly damaged the phantom, her attacks had successfully held the construct's attention, giving Severa time to approach it from behind. Passion pierced through the phantom's neck, tearing its helm off entirely. Extending her lance carefully, Severa caught the phantom's falling helm, then swung it inwards to slam into the phantom's chest.

"Ouch. Beaten to death by its own head," Caelia remarked lightly, watching as the ruined phantom keeled over.

Severa only smirked at her, before turning towards her sister and the remaining phantom.

Morgan was no longer fighting alone, either, for Lucina had found her way to Morgan's side. The two of them circled the disarmed phantom carefully, taking turns striking at it as they stayed clear of its magical counterattacks. With each new wound, the phantom slowed, and its movements seemed less fluid. Before long, the flames enveloping its gauntlet flickered and died, and it, too, collapsed lifelessly to the cold ground.

* * *

Morgan sighed in relief, sheathing both of her swords before rubbing at her sore shoulder. "Thanks, Lucina," she said gratefully.

"You're welcome. _Someone_ had to keep you and Severa from biting off more than you can chew," Lucina replied playfully.

"No kidding," Caelia agreed, seeming rather giddy as she and the others approached them. "You know, Morgan… when Val told me you were the one leading this little army of ours, I thought it sounded a bit unusual. It makes sense now, though. You fight just like a Laguz leader."

"Charging straight into our most dangerous enemies just like that?" Kyrie teased, reverting to her human shape. "If you aren't careful, you're going to make Val jealous."

"That wasn't the best plan I've come up with," Morgan admitted, trying to hide her embarrassment. "And King Goldoa is leading us, not me."

"Really?" Caelia asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "I don't think he's given a single order since Kyrie and I joined up with you back in Begnion. He certainly wasn't the one leading the charge just now."

"Nor was he the one with the brilliant idea of rushing ahead to face four of these horrid things alone," Severa remarked dryly.

"This _was_ his idea!" Morgan began to protest. "I had to stop him, and…" she began, though she nearly choked on her words as she realized what she had done. She glanced back towards the open archway, horrified.

"And ended up giving orders to Tellius's oldest and most powerful monarch in the process," Caelia finished wryly.

"I had to stop him," Morgan mumbled sheepishly. "It was too dangerous for him to charge in here by himself."

"And then you and your sister promptly charged into the same danger you were trying to keep him from," Cordelia summarized in an exasperated tone. "Honestly, what were you two _thinking_?" she scolded.

"That you and Lucy would catch up to us sooner?" Severa suggested impishly. "And we were holding our own, weren't we? Better than King Goldoa would have, anyways. Don't you remember what happened the last time he went up against three of these things at once?"

"There might still be a lot more than three of them outside," Morgan remained urgently, trying to steer the conversation away from herself. "We'd better go and see if the others need any help."

They assembled quickly and started for the archway, with Morgan's pressing reminder looming over them all. The continual sounds of the battle raging beyond the wall spurred them on, but just as they reached the castle's threshold, Morgan froze.

A familiar sensation coursed through her, one she immediately recognized as the summoning magic of a rescue staff. Someone was calling to her, inviting her magically to his side. At first, she thought it was Soren, reaching to her from beyond the castle's walls, but there was something inexplicably foreign about the presence behind the spell.

Morgan closed her eyes and tried to trace the magic. The call came again, more insistently, and this time, she was able to follow it to its source. She turned back and looked up, to the highest room of Castle Acheron's central spire.

"Morgan! Snap out of it!" Severa said.

With a jolt, Morgan turned to see her sister staring at her worriedly. The others, too, turned to look at her with concern. "Sorry," she apologized hastily. But even as she spoke aloud, she felt another presence around her, and a comforting voice rang out in her mind, saying only three words.

 _Go to him_.

Strangely, Morgan thought the reassuring voice sounded exactly like her own. She looked up at Castle Acheron's lone spire again, wondering why she had a sudden, inexplicable urge to accept the magical summons. Then she made up her mind and reached out mentally, seeking the last wisps of magic from the attempted summoning.

Cordelia was the first to notice her daughter's distant look, and seemed to immediately recognize that something was wrong. "Morgan, what is it?" she asked urgently.

As she found the thread of magic she had been searching for, Morgan smiled reassuringly at her mother. "I'll be right back," she promised evasively.

"Morgan!" Cordelia cried.

"Wait!" Severa demanded.

Ignoring their protests, Morgan allowed the summons to take hold of her. The world began to spin, twist, and distort, until the white snow and dark stone bricks became little more than an insubstantial, spiraling grey blur.

* * *

The world came back into focus, and Morgan found herself standing in a large chamber, as barren as the castle's courtyard had been. The chamber's only entrance and exit, a staircase at the edge of the chamber's tiled floor, was obscured by a sheet of shimmering golden flames.

The room's only occupant stood across from her, waiting beside a tall window. His armor was decorated with a web-like pattern of jagged, icy-blue streaks, and three hauntingly inhuman eye slits adorned his menacing helm. A massive sword of pure darksteel, longer than Morgan was tall, waited within arm's reach, standing vertically where it had been plunged into the chamber's floor.

No longer interested in the courtyard below and the battle raging on outside, the intimidating figure slowly turned away from the window and rested his gaze upon Morgan, who suddenly felt very small.

A sinister laugh trickled through Charon's fearsome helmet, echoing discordantly around the chamber. "I find it flattering that you and your friends have come so far to see me in my moment of triumph," he greeted her cordially. "Welcome to Castle Acheron, Morgan."


	15. Chapter 10

**~ Chapter 10 ~**

"Charon," Morgan said evenly, hiding her surprise.

Charon inclined his head, respectfully acknowledging her greeting.

"Relic claimed you were dead," Morgan said. She studied the mysterious Redeemer carefully as she spoke, hoping to somehow measure his reaction even if she could not see his face.

"Did he, now?" Charon remarked. "How odd. The senile old fool could be as senseless and melodramatic as Medea when he wanted to, but I thought he would have refrained from being _too_ ambiguous. He was trying to help you, after all."

"Was he? I was beginning to think you sent him to lure us into a trap," Morgan said mildly.

"Hardly," Charon scoffed. "Why would I have bothered luring you to this barren rock? I meant to meet with you and your friends in Melior, but the traitorous wretch placed a magical binding over me. He even undid his own pact of spirit protection just to defeat my attempt to use the Dominion Scepter against him."

"Then you destroyed it to keep him from stealing it from you," Morgan reasoned.

"Of course. The doddering old fool fled, but he somehow found the nerve to return and challenge me again, too, just as the binding was about to wear away," Charon growled. "He was even more unstable than I thought. He should have known better. I am not so easily killed… something else you and I have in common, I think."

"Something _else_?" Morgan echoed incredulously.

"You and I are quite alike, don't you think?" Charon suggested jovially. "We are both mysteries to the world. No one truly seems to know who we are or where we've come from, save for a few fanciful tales, yet we both lead great forces behind us in our quest to build a better world."

"I'm not hiding anything from anyone," Morgan retorted defiantly. "Nor am I leading anyone anywhere."

"Come now, there's no reason to feign humility," Charon chided. "Goldoa's legendary king and Begnion's century-old emperor follow you willingly, heeding your every order. The prince of Phoenicis, the queen of Gallia, and even a descendant of Daein's immortal queen fight at your side, and they, too, defer to your command. It's really quite impressive for a young and unassuming Beorc child who has come seemingly out of nowhere."

"I didn't come out of nowhere," Morgan corrected defiantly. "And neither did you. You're not as secretive as you'd like to think, Charon. We know who you are. You were a Begnion noble until you and your family lost when playing at their silly political games. Then you ran away and forged a pact with the spirits, founding the Redeemers, all so you could avenge yourself. Only, you insisted that your mission was something nobler than that. Right?" she taunted, hoping to at least upset Charon's smug demeanor.

"Excellent!" Charon congratulated. "I would dispute a few of those details, but you are every bit as perceptive as I have been led to believe."

Morgan stared at him pensively, her defiant expression fading. "No… that's not right, is it?" she realized. "Relic didn't say you were dead. He only said that Charon was gone. That Charon was 'no more.'"

"Spoken in exactly four words, I expect," Charon remarked dryly.

"You aren't really Charon," Morgan stated, confident in her guess. "Or at least, you aren't the disgraced nobleman who fled Begnion. That man was a proud man who carefully hid any sign of his past and his family's failings. He valued his name and reputation more highly than anything else, and gave up what wealth he could have held onto in hopes of distancing himself from his past. That's what truly mattered to him, but you… you don't care about any of that, do you?"

"As I have said, you are remarkably perceptive," Charon said, taking no offense. "The fool who fled Begnion was a petty man, heedless of the world around him, seeking power for power's sake. The power that stands before you now is greater than anything he could have dreamed of, and is guided by wisdom and greater purpose, concepts foreign to that spoiled child."

"This so-called 'power' standing before me is a ruthless monster, who thinks himself better simply because he doesn't care for the innocent lives he's swept aside," Morgan accused harshly. As she spoke, her right hand inched towards Eternity's hilt, fearing that her words would prompt Charon to attack.

But Charon only laughed, and this time, his haunting laughter sent a chill running down Morgan's spine. "Of course I do not care for their worthless lives," he chuckled. "Don't you see? I am to become a god! A true god, not some pitiful creature like Ashunera, whose power bowed down before her mortal creations, the defenseless vermin she so dearly cherished! Call me evil, call me a monster, or call me darkness itself, if you'd like. It matters not to me, for your meaningless titles are the futile protests of your dying kind, a hollow token of defiance against the order I mean to restore to this world!"

Morgan's only response was to unsheathe her blades. The metallic ringing echoed through the tall, enclosed chamber as she glared at the Redeemer defiantly.

"Very brave of you," Charon teased. "I must admit, I had hoped to claim the dragon king's head as a trophy of my first victory following my ascension. I had never expected to find such strength and courage in a mere child such as yourself. Come then, Morgan. Show me how far you're willing to go for the cause that you've adopted. Prove to me that you deserve the honor of being the first to fall before the divine being I am to become!"

Charon's gauntleted hand closed around the hilt of his sword, easing it free of the ground with a loud scrape and leaving a deep crack in the tiled stone floor. Though the weapon looked as if it must have weighed over a hundred pounds, Charon spun the hilt weightlessly in his grasp, then hefted it into the air in one hand, brandishing it menacingly.

Morgan struck first, slashing Alondite forward. Charon's sword proved impossibly maneuverable, snapping into place to deflect the conjured wave. Quickly deciding that it was safer to let her dangerous adversary approach her, Morgan spun and slashed horizontally, unleashing a second wave perpendicular to the first.

Charon parried the second wave easily enough, too, before thrusting his free gauntlet forward. The seams along the fingers of his heavy gauntlet flared with silvery-blue light, before a strange black mist gushed forth, forming a ring of shadowy icicles. The icicles remained suspended in midair, and swiveled to point towards Morgan, holding their place for a split second before shooting towards her, one after another. "Foolish girl," Charon taunted, watching as Morgan scrambled to avoid the deadly projectiles.

As soon as the last of the icicles sailed past her, Morgan charged, knowing now that she couldn't risk fighting Charon from afar. Charon countered by flexing his gauntlet again. Three spells rolled out in quick succession – a gust of wind, a fiery wave, and a crackling bolt of lightning that burst through the flames. Morgan threw herself flat against the ground, but the wind slowed her just long enough for the bolt to make contact, jolting her painfully. She ignored the stinging heat of the magical flames roaring over her and rolled to the side, swiftly regaining her footing.

More icicles soared her way, but Morgan, having already foreseen the attack, was already in a full sprint, moving at an angle to avoid the deadly projectiles. She quickly closed the rest of the distance between her and Charon before the mighty Redeemer could cast again, thrusting Eternity forward.

Charon reacted by swiping his sword downwards, and Morgan instinctively withdrew, expecting her adversary to be far stronger than she was. She wasn't quite fast enough, and the heavy blade crashed against Eternity's tip. On contact, the silver sword lit up with blue flames, somehow stealing away much of Redeemer's momentum.

The surprising turn caught both combatants by surprise. Morgan was the first to recover, assuming an aggressive stance in hopes of pressing her advantage. Eternity crashed loudly against the massive darksteel blade, and try as he might, Charon could not overcome his smaller opponent.

In hopes of breaking the stalemate, Morgan shifted her grip slightly and spun, lashing out with Alondite instead. Charon reacted quickly, shifting his sword to parry while he tried to sidestep out of Eternity's path. Morgan quickly followed through with both of her weapons, and Eternity tore into Charon's arm, the sapphire flames melting straight through Charon's armor.

Then Charon's sword met Alondite's edge with more force than Morgan could have imagined. The young tactician only barely held onto her weapons as she was lifted up into the air and flung across the room. She crashed painfully into the opposite wall before collapsing in an undignified heap.

Charon made no further move towards her, and instead inspected the gash in his armor carefully. "Not bad," he admitted grudgingly. "You truly are full of surprises."

Morgan breathlessly pulled herself to her feet and steadied her grip on her weapons. "Good. I'd hate to disappoint you," she replied flippantly.

The armored Redeemer charged, leading with his open gauntlet and another volley of tinted icicles. Anticipating another sidelong sprint from his opponent, Charon swept his gauntlet further right, encompassing a wider area with his deadly spell.

But Morgan knew she could not afford to waste her time dodging and realigning herself, and instead swept Alondite in front of her, using the shockwave to shatter several of the incoming projectiles. The rest flew clear to either side of her, and she met Charon's charge, evading the Redeemer's overhead slash at the last possible second. The ground shook as Charon's sword plowed into it, tearing another great crack.

At the same time, Alondite slashed against Charon's chest. Its hilt trembled violently in Morgan's hand as she struck, and though the blade could not quite tear through Charon's heavy plating, it left a notable crease.

Morgan pivoted hard, slashing at her opponent as she sprang away. Alondite bounced off the same wound as Charon tried to turn to face her, deepening the mark, then Morgan thrust Eternity straight into the fold. The sparking blue flames seemed to explode every which way as Eternity's silver blade sank into Charon's abdomen, bursting through his back.

Charon's helmet jerked upwards to meet Morgan's defiant gaze. He let his sword fall free to the ground, where it fell with a resounding crash. Then, both of his gauntlets inched towards Eternity, as if to grip the silver weapon by the blade.

In answer, Morgan twisted her blade hard and jerked it back towards herself, tearing it free of Charon and sending him staggering backward. She then lined up Eternity and charged, meaning to finish off her dangerous adversary with a forceful, measured thrust.

Just before reaching Charon, she remembered one of Lucina's favorite techniques. She impulsively dipped Eternity low before flipping it high into the air instead. Charon looked up, following the sparkling, spinning weapon.

Morgan somersaulted through the air, catching her blade by the hilt and slashing down against the brow of Charon's helmet. With a sickening crack, her blade sheared through the darksteel visor, as well as Charon's thick plated armor, biting through the Redeemer entirely and nearly splitting his armor in two. Morgan landed in a crouch, then rose quickly, spinning Alondite outwards and bashing Charon's torn frame to the ground.

Charon's armored form twitched and trembled where he laid, before going deathly still.

* * *

For several long seconds, Morgan remained fixated upon the fallen Redeemer. Though Charon laid perfectly still, there remained something unsettling about the body that Morgan couldn't quite place at first. Only after she sheathed her blades and drew a handful of her warp powder did she understand.

There was no blood, either on her blades or pooled about the apparently dead man. The man who had not been a man at all, it now seemed.

"What are you, then?" Morgan whispered, returning her warp powder to her pouch and drawing Eternity once more.

Charon's armor suddenly rattled loudly, and a wheezing, disconcerting laugh gurgled forth from the broken visor. Morgan gasped and recoiled as Charon climbed to his feet once more, his torn armor clattering loudly. Through the large gash in the Redeemer's chest, a black, twisted mass with jagged edges, polished to glint in the chamber's meager light, became faintly visible.

"You still do not know?" Charon asked mockingly. "Maybe a hint is in order."

One of his gauntlets moved up to his visor, clawing into the crack that had perfectly split through the center of his three eye slits. With a tug, that half of the broken mask came loose, and the other half tumbled free, exposing an ebon skull, alight with golden flames. Charon's gauntlets then scraped downward, tearing away the front of his plated armor, exposing a humanoid ribcage of some material resembling charcoal.

"Now do you understand?" Charon cackled gleefully.

Morgan trembled and backed away further. She felt a strong urge to scream, to yell at the blackened skeleton, the abomination that was quite obviously dead. Her hand reflexively jerked towards her warp powder.

"Are you truly that scared? If you wish to run, I will not stop you," Charon promised. "Run, run, run away, back through your gateway to your home in distant lands unknown. Tear down the gateway behind you, and perhaps you and I will never meet again. The lifespan of a Beorc is not so long, after all."

"No. You won't run. You're not afraid," Morgan suddenly blurted aloud, as if trying to reassure herself.

"Very convincing," Charon said dryly.

Morgan took a deep breath, steadying herself, then glared at Charon, refusing to be intimidated. As she did, she studied Charon's skeletal frame subtly, striving to make some sense of the enemy standing before her.

"Really, Morgan, there is no shame in fearing one who is already dead," Charon drawled. "He who is dead cannot be slain, after all."

"No," Morgan declared. "You aren't dead, and you can be killed. You're just an eidolon, or maybe a phantom." Even as she spoke, she remembered the story Severa had told her of the strange being in Heaven's Column, and what Harmony had told her about spirit charmers. "Wait… not a phantom. A lich," she corrected herself.

"Well reasoned," Charon said, praising her mockingly. "An entity born of the accursed union between Beorc and the spirits bound to him, when such a bond grows too intricate, too _intense_ , for them to remain separate in mind and body." He tilted his skull slightly, his jaw locked in a seemingly permanent smile. "Tell me then, Morgan. Now that you know what I am, _who_ am I?"

The answer seemed obvious at first. Nothing of the man Charon used to be seemed to remain within the twisted husk, and it fit with Relic's cryptic hint and Charon's apparent abandonment of his life's goals. But Morgan didn't answer right away, thinking back instead to the first time she had heard a lich spoken of.

"I'm not sure who you think you are, but I know who you aren't," Morgan finally replied. "You aren't just made up of rogue spirits. You can't be. There has to be some shred of the person Charon was in you still, even if you have nothing else in common with the person you used to be."

"Oh? And how are you so certain of that?" Charon asked teasingly.

"Because I've seen a lich before," Morgan said. "Twice, I think. He was fighting for Tantalus back in the Windswept Forest, and then for Extinction in Nevassa."

"Ah, yes. Tantalus's wretched little pet," Charon laughed. "The last remnant of an ancient and insignificant civilization, aside from Symphony's winged friend."

"Last remnant? No, not even that," Morgan corrected. "That monster was feral and hardly even self-aware. He was an eidolon dwelling in the body of someone long dead, like your phantoms with their armored shells."

"Oh? Then you believe the spirits to be something less than Beorc or Laguz. You believe them to be incapable of true conscious thought, yes?" Charon prompted, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. "But haven't already seen proof to the contrary? Were your friends not hoodwinked by a scheming eidolon, seeking freedom from his magical bindings? Did you not personally defeat an eidolon who had bided his time for centuries, patiently awaiting his revenge? Did you find them to be mindless, too? Feral and hardly even self-aware?"

"Calamity… Extinction…" Morgan muttered. Her eyes widened as the implication of Charon's words sank in. "What are you saying?" she demanded, on the edge of panic once more.

"You know exactly what I am saying, clever child," Charon cackled maliciously. His skull began to vibrate, and the golden flames outlining it began to intensify and spread across his skeletal frame. "The Charon you spoke of was a fool, binding spirit after spirit to his soul, fueling his insatiable lust for power, power that he could neither understand, nor begin to control. Power that has coalesced into something new, something far, far greater."

"Into a dire eidolon," Morgan whispered.

"Almost," Charon admitted. "There _is_ a difference. Dire eidolons are tethered to your world, and under the right conditions, they can manifest here through their will alone. My existence is different, bound to a source of power, a relic sensitive to the touch of spirits. It is an interesting hurdle, and one that I've embraced, for through it, I will become something greater still." Charon tugged his gauntlets free, revealing his bare, ebon phalanges. He then lifted one skeletal palm upwards, holding up an ornate bronze medallion for Morgan to see. "Do you know what this is, Morgan?"

Morgan recognized the medallion at once, of course. It was a mystery they had mostly solved some time ago, and now, the final piece finally slid into place. To Tantalus, Lehran's medallion had been little more than a source of power, but it had been the very foundation of Charon's existence… and more.

"Then all of these wars you've started… all of the people you've killed…" Morgan whispered, trembling with anger. "All of the suffering you've brought upon Tellius and its people… it was all for this? To rekindle the Fire Emblem, and to make its power your own?"

"The Fire Emblem is but a means to an end. Tellius's end, in point of fact," Charon replied coolly. "A touch of the goddess's power remains within this medallion. That is all that remains of Tellius's beloved Ashunera, and with that power, I shall rise to take her place. Tellius will know a new god, and I will gladly finish the work my predecessor began!" he proclaimed, his voice rising as he spoke.

Sapphire flames burst from the Fire Emblem, flowing in wild, flickering streams around Charon. The shimmering golden flames clinging to his bones grew brighter still as they were touched by the entropy contained within the medallion. Charon began to sing then, in a ghastly, grating voice, chanting words in an ancient language that Morgan found familiar, but could not understand. The flames swirled into a mighty pyre, burning higher and higher, seemingly melting away Charon's armor and bones. Charon's voice deepened and grew smoother, reverberating in an unearthly manner.

At the sight of the sparkling azure flames dissipating into the golden inferno, any semblance of fear was driven from Morgan, to be replaced by a simmering anger that even she couldn't explain. She only barely suppressed the urge to leap into the flames herself and tear the medallion from Charon's grip, forcing herself to think rationally instead.

Charon's pyroclasm continued to swell, his otherworld chanting growing louder with each passing second, until the flames nearly reached the ceiling of the chamber, nearly thirty feet above them. Only then did the flames recede, revealing a colossal sculpture of an ebon, bone-like substance that shimmered with golden light.

Charon's new head resembled a massive skull, half covered by the top half of his old visor with its three eye slits, pulsing with the same cursed light. The top of his jaw appeared to have melted, fusing with the helmet, though a pair of newly-sprouted elongated fangs extended from his lower jaw. His arms remained armored, save for his exposed hands. They, too, had grown proportionately, and crackling black lightning danced erratically across his phalanges. His ribcage and spine remained intact, though the rest of his bones and armor had melted away, and the end of his spine dangled only a foot or two off the ground, magically suspended. Lehran's medallion had changed, too, taking on the same consistency as Charon's new form as it drifted in the center of his ribcage.

A mighty roar marked the end of Charon's song. His demented form shook violently, and the room, too, began to tremble. Then the room slowly grew still, and finally, Charon spoke.

"You should thank me," he jeered, only his voice no longer sounded like Charon's, and resonated with supernatural power. "Few are granted the spectacle of ascension, and have witnessed the birth of a new deity." His skull tilted forward to look down triumphantly upon Morgan.

Only to find that Morgan was no longer alone. The young tactician tossed her now-inert rescue staff aside, having spent its last charge, and met the monstrosity's gaze evenly.

"Umm… are we supposed to fight that?" Owain asked weakly. The young, brown-haired swordsman trembled as he drew his own sword.

"Well, we certainly aren't bringing it home with us," Severa retorted, readying her lance. "Honestly, Morgan. We let you out of our sight for all of fifteen minutes! How did you already manage to find something this horrendous!?"

"You know how she is, Sev," Lucina said, twirling Falchion casually. "Morgan's always been particularly adept at finding trouble."

"Gee, thanks," Morgan said, feigning a wounded look.

"You're welcome," Soren intoned dryly. "Now let's get this over with, before I start wondering again how I managed to get myself involved in this nonsense."

The lich shook his head slowly. "You disappoint me, Morgan. I thought you would be wise enough to flee, or at least noble enough to die alone," he said, sighing disapprovingly. "I didn't expect you to drag your friends straight into the path of destruction."

"Destruction? Is that what you're calling yourself?" Morgan asked mildly. "I suppose the name fits in with the other three."

"I have told you before, I care little what you and your ilk choose to call me," the lich growled.

"Well, if the scholars ever choose to write about the shortest-lived dire eidolon of all time, they'll need a name for you," Morgan reasoned. "But I guess Charon will have to do."

Charon's eye slits flared. "Impudent mortal!" he roared, thrusting one arm in her direction. Jagged black bolts streaked forth from his blackened fingertips, smoothing and freezing into twisted spires of tinted ice. Morgan didn't even consider trying to block it, diving away instead. Standing beside her on either side, Severa and Lucina did the same.

Despite his earlier hesitation, Owain leapt forward to attack, sailing through the air and slashing at Charon's bony fingers. His darksteel sword failed to cut through, and merely knocked Charon's hand back a few inches before falling to the ground himself, his momentum lost. "I shall crush your cursed bones to dust!" Owain cried defiantly, hopping back to his feet.

Charon countered quickly, curling one skeletal hand into a fist and slamming it downward, narrowly missing the young swordsman and leaving a small crater in the stone floor. He prepared to strike again, only to pause as a sudden rushing noise caught his attention.

A magical twister had gathered around Soren, swirling violently. As Charon looked up, the twister spun across the room, catching him in the face and throwing his head back with a thunderous snapping sound.

The twisted skull then lolled back into place, and Charon thrust both of his hands towards Soren, countering with a wind spell of his own. Streams of black dust sailed upon the conjured winds, and though Soren threw up both arms and shielded his face with his tome, he felt as if he had been caught in a storm of powdered glass.

Lucina put a quick end to the devastating spell then, rushing towards Charon from the side and sweeping Falchion into a powerful spinning slash. Like Owain, she failed to cut through the strange, bony material of Charon's new body, but her attack was enough to push Charon's arm aside.

The lich shifted abruptly to the side, facing Lucina squarely a second before stabbing forward with his other arm. Lucina raised her sword defensively, only barely keeping Charon's skeletal digits from tearing straight through her. Charon gripped Falchion tightly, unbothered by the weapon's razor-sharp edge, and jerked it sideways, ripping it from Lucina's grip and flinging it across the room.

Severa and Morgan then advanced in tandem, giving Lucina enough time to break away and retrieve her weapon. Morgan struck first, sliding underneath one of Charon's outstretched arm and slashing both her blades against his lower ribcage. Neither Alondite nor Eternity could cut through the polished, sturdy bones, even with the latter sword flaring angrily as it hit its mark.

Across from Morgan, Severa first moved to flank Charon, then changed her mind and dashed past him instead, tossing her shield aside. She then turned sharply and jabbed the base of her lance downwards against the floor, vaulting upwards. Taking hold of one of the nearby upper ribs in her free hand, she thrust her lance into the base of Charon's neck.

Ignoring Morgan entirely, Charon casually reached behind his back, seizing Severa by the legs. Passion rattled angrily, scraping against the inside of his skull, as he tugged the blonde lancer away and held her up in front of his macabre visage.

"Release her!" Owain demanded desperately. Without any regard for his own safety, he raced forward, leaping up to slash at Charon's face. The young swordsman's valiant leap didn't quite gain enough height, and he reached his arms out further, hoping to at least clip Charon's skeletal chest.

"As you wish," Charon jeered, unimpressed. Nonchalantly, he flipped Severa through the air at Owain. Owain released his grip upon his sword only just in time, sending it flying out of the way just before Severa crashed into him. "So feeble," Charon rumbled disapprovingly, watching as the two tumbled to the ground, leaving the unarmored swordsman badly bruised. "You have chosen poorly, Morgan. You would have done better to bring Begnion's delinquent emperor and the silver-haired drifter with you instead, armed with their blessed weapons."

Soren sent forth another forceful gust. Tinged green with magical energy, the powerful wind surged across the room and slammed into Charon's side. The mighty lich barely budged, and retaliated with a cone of black frost, sending the branded mage skittering aside yet again.

"Then again, even the power of Yune seems insufficient," Charon mocked them, barely noticing as Morgan bashed Alondite uselessly against his spine. "You've proven yourself to be wiser than this. Why fight a battle you cannot hope to win?"

"Maybe I'm not as convinced of your divinity as you are," Morgan retorted fiercely. Bringing both of her swords in close, she dove into a roll as Charon's fist came down hard, narrowly missing her and leaving another crack in the ground. She spun as she came out of her roll, and slapped repeatedly at Charon with her blades.

Charon reversed himself quickly and conjured a tinted, translucent globe of magical ice. The spherical projectile glided towards Morgan, shattering and showering her with hundreds of stinging, freezing shards.

Then Falchion tore into the base of the lich's spine, slicing off his lowest vertebrae as he turned. Charon howled, more in anger than pain, and reared back, slamming the back of both of his hands into the floor. The room shook and trembled, and Lucina lost her footing, but behind her, Owain had braced himself and managed to remain steady. He clasped his hands together, weaving his fingers. "Now, Severa!" he cried.

Without hesitation, Severa jumped towards the lich with her lance gripped tightly in both hands, allowing Owain to boost her upwards. She soared through the air to land on Charon's exposed chest, and stabbed Passion downward into the lich's bony collar, lodging it tightly.

Charon rose to his full height once more, pushing Severa off and leaving her to dangle helplessly from the end of her lance. The lich then grasped the stubborn lancer again, preparing to throw her aside, and Severa felt as if her arms were about to be torn from their sockets entirely.

But the lich's sternum gave way first. With a deafening crack, Charon's ribcage split in two as he tore Severa free and flung her aside. She fell to the ground with a pained yelp, and her treasured lance snapped in two beneath her, but neither could be heard over Charon's sudden and horrendous howl.

"This ends here!" Morgan declared. She stabbed her swords upwards, forming a cross inside Charon's chest, then swung both blades out wide, slashing against the inside of the lich's torso.

Charon's thrashing came to a stop, and any trace of agony disappeared as he leaned forward, glowering at Morgan. "You are nothing! I will unmake you!" he promised menacingly.

Soren struck first, though this time, his spell was aimed directly at Morgan. The heavy breeze swept her from her feet, pushing her to safety just before both of Charon's fists slammed down on the spot she had been standing a split second ago. Alondite clattered noisily to the ground, though Morgan managed to retain her grip on Eternity.

But then Charon bent forward, sweeping both arms out behind him and lowering his jaw. An avalanche of searing golden flames billowed out across the room, enveloping the young tactician just as she got to her feet.

"Morgan!" Severa cried out in horror. Disregarding her broken weapon, she charged straight at the flames, only to be held back by Lucina and Owain. "No! Let me go!"

But Lucina and Owain held on, restraining her even as they themselves looked on in horror. More flames gushed forth from Charon's demented maw, and waves of sweltering heat surged outward, pushing the three Ylisseans back and leaving them to stare despairingly into the swirling pyroclasm.

Across for them, Soren, too, had attempted to reach Morgan, until the blistering flames drove him back. Then he rounded on lich, futilely firing wave after wave of magic into the abomination, stopping and turning only when he heard Lucina, Severa, and Owain gasp aloud.

When he saw that the flaming shroud had transformed, taking on a brilliant sapphire hue, he couldn't suppress a startled gasp of his own.

Charon recoiled, and the flames receded until they only faintly outlined Morgan's figure. Though the young tactician's eyes were tightly shut, she looked to be unharmed.

Then her eyes flickered open, revealing that they, too, had taken on a sparkling azure color, burning brightly with inner fire. She advanced steadily towards Charon, stepping lightly, with uncharacteristic grace and patience. "For all of your power, you are no god. Your place is not to create, but to destroy," she explained serenely.

Without warning, Charon surged forward, swiping at the approaching flame-wreathed tactician. "Then be destroyed! Suffer and perish!" he roared. To his growing horror, his skeletal digits could not penetrate the flames, and could only scratch desperately against them.

"You think yourself a god only because you do not understand what you are," she informed him lightly, ignoring the savage and desperate attack. "You are no deity. You are merely spirits who have overstepped their bounds, emulating consciousness and purpose through personifying mankind's greatest weaknesses," she explained.

Enraged, Charon lashed out magically, and sent waves of fire, lightning, wind, and ice splashing harmlessly against his protected foe. His spells cascaded forth, one after another, forcing Lucina, Severa, Owain, and Soren to back away.

"Morgan! Quit acting like Owain and just finish him off!" Severa urged.

The young tactician went on as if Severa hadn't even spoken. "You are powerful, much as the obstacles humanity faces naturally, from which you are derived, are," she said to Charon, almost pityingly. "But you are no more insurmountable than I was. You asked why this child chose to fight on, and the answer is as simple as that: she bears the torch for those who would sooner face their weaknesses than hide from them."

Charon opened his mouth again, but all that poured forth this time was an incoherent wail born of growing desperation. Again and again, he struck, and each time, his attacks proved just as ineffectual.

"You may be more powerful than I was. You are almost certainly more powerful than I am now," she conceded calmly. "Yet all that power amounts to very little. You are far from invincible, Charon."

The cerulean flames flickered, then leaned forward, pulling away from Morgan, though they maintained her silhouette. Morgan fell back a step, dazed, and the magical fires peeled away from her entirely.

"You know what you must do. Strike, Morgan," the specter said, though she still spoke in Morgan's voice. "Grant him tranquility. Visit dissolution upon them." The specter drifted forward, dispersing and lining Charon's skeletal frame. Charon howled defiantly, but could do little more as the divine flames held him still.

"Morgan? What's going on?" Severa asked, bewildered. Lucina and Owain were similarly confused, and alternated their glances between Charon's paralyzed form and Morgan.

Morgan looked back, but said nothing, and only flashed her friends a brief, reassuring smile. Then she turned back to Charon, lifting Eternity and leveling it at his shattered chest.

Behind her, Soren nodded with satisfaction. He absentmindedly stowed his tome, understanding that the battle was over.

Morgan took a deep breath, then surged forward, chopping at Charon's damaged ribs. No flames highlighted the sword's silver blade this time, and upon contact, the mysterious enchantment that had been holding Charon in place was broken. Though Morgan had not quite managed to cut through the impossibly strong bone, Charon snapped backwards in agony.

Morgan swung again, and then a third time, battering Charon as he thrashed and flailed in vain. Chips of ebon bone flaked away and scattered, and with each attack, the young tactician grew more confident, striking faster and more forcefully than before. Her fourth swing was accompanied with an earsplitting crack as several of Charon's ribs shattered.

With a triumphant smile, Morgan paused for the briefest moment, lining up her fifth and final strike. Then she thrust Eternity between Charon's torn ribs, stabbing hard against the corrupted Fire Emblem.

The ebon medallion trembled, and a crack appeared where Morgan had struck it, splitting the medallion down the middle. The crack grew and spread, reaching across and forming a web across the medallion's surface. Then the medallion shattered, splintering into countless pieces.

Eternity did not react as Morgan slowly backed away. Instead, a small puff of intermingled golden and sapphire vapors began to swirl where the shattered medallion had hung suspended, drawing in the rest of the magical energies lining the lich's shimmering form. When the last of the flames disappeared, the wisp if light faded.

The dying lich began to spasm and thrash once more as cracks began spreading along his ebon bones. His jaw stretched wide, as if in agony, but this time, no noise poured forth. One of his skeletal hands clipped the ground, shattering upon contact. Then he jerked upright, and his arms and their armor-like plating slipped free from his shoulders, fracturing loudly as they, too, broke into countless fragments of bone. He tossed his head back, as if he were trying to scream, but only collapsed under his own weight and toppled backward.

* * *

Morgan's friends gathered around her silently, watching as the last shards of the ebon glass-like bone crumbled to ash. Questions swirled at the forefront of their minds, for with the lone exception of Soren, none of them truly understood what had just happened. Yet for a time, they said nothing, and only stood there eyeing the unmoving pile of ash.

Finally, Severa spoke. "Is that it, then?" she asked softly.

Morgan nodded. "That's it," she confirmed cheerily. "Come on, everyone. Let's go home." She turned and started for the staircase, expecting the magical barrier to have faded with Charon's death. Unfortunately, while the barrier _was_ gone, the floor around the opening and the staircase itself had both crumbled. "Oh. Warp powder it is, then," she decided.

But before she or any of her friends could reach for their warp powder, a melodic, feminine voice interrupted them. "Leaving so soon, and without even saying goodbye?"

Everyone turned to see a wisp of pale blue light, in the shape of a shockingly beautiful woman's face, hovering over Charon's remains.

"I suppose it's not a terrible idea, given the state of this keep," the apparition added, winking at them mischievously.

Though Lucina, Severa, and Owain were more confused than ever, Morgan smiled warmly at the sight. "Hello there," she said, speaking as if she were greeting an old friend.

"Umm… do you know her, Morgan?" Lucina asked tentatively.

"Sure, I think. I've been hearing her voice every now and then, though most of the time, it sounded like my own voice," Morgan said, fumbling for a proper explanation. "Umm… that _was_ you, right?" she asked hesitantly, eyeing the specter carefully.

"It was. I apologize if the intrusion proved uncomfortable for you. It's far easier for me to speak through another," the mysterious woman answered.

"It wasn't too bad. The first time it happened, I thought I was going crazy, but I think I got used to it pretty quickly," Morgan replied. "Thank you for your help," she added, gesturing towards the heap of ash.

"No thanks are necessary. This victory belongs to you and your friends. I only suppressed some of Charon's borrowed power," the woman corrected modestly.

"Well, he borrowed quite a lot of power. We couldn't have won without your help," Morgan said gratefully.

"Oh, I'm sure you would have found a way," the woman said, smiling encouragingly. "But you are very welcome," she added, dipping her head gracefully.

"But who _are_ you?" Severa interrupted, her patience finally wearing thin.

Morgan winced and eyed the ghostly figure nervously, afraid to give offense.

But the goddess didn't seem offended in the slightest. "I'm Ashunera. It's nice to meet you all," she introduced. "I owe you all so very much."

"Ashunera? The goddess?" Lucina gasped.

"The one and only," Ashunera replied brightly. "I'm glad we've had this chance to meet in person, even if we're destined to soon part."

"We are?" Morgan asked, bewildered. She swallowed as the goddess turned to her, staring at her piercingly. "Goddess Ashunera," Morgan began tentatively, unsure if the honorific she had chosen was appropriate. "Even after we return to Ylisse, the gateway my father created will remain. We could always return to visit you… if you wish us to, that is."

Ashunera shook her head somberly. "That is very kind of you, Morgan, but I am not ready to truly awaken. I must return to my slumber soon," she explained mournfully.

"Then we can come visit you when you wake up again," Morgan suggested.

"If only it were so easy," Ashunera laughed lightly. "I'm afraid my return is still several Beorc lifespans away, my dear child."

"Oh," Morgan said, disappointed, unsure of what else to say. "Umm… before I forget, I think I owe you an apology."

"For what?" Ashunera asked.

"For doubting you," Morgan admitted. "Soren said he spoke to you personally, and that you might be looking after us, but during our journey here to Castle Acheron, I was afraid he had been mistaken, or maybe just overly hopeful."

"Overly hopeful?" Ashunera echoed curiously. Then, to Morgan's surprise, the goddess turned and scowled at the branded mage. "Did you not tell her _anything_?" she scolded gently. "What happened to giving her my thanks?"

Soren shrugged. "My apologies. It must have slipped my mind," he replied, though he did not sound particularly apologetic.

Ashunera seemed annoyed, and shook her head in exasperation, muttering incoherently.

Abruptly, the castle shuddered with an ominous groan. Some parts of the damaged tiles gave way, and several shattered bricks fell through to the floor below.

"Sensing its master's defeat, the conquered keep begins to crumble," Owain proclaimed solemnly.

"Right. I'm sure the castle falling apart has nothing to do with the holes Charon poked in just about every side of this room," Severa retorted scathingly. "Come on, Morgan. We can't stay here much longer."

"And the others waiting outside are probably worried about us," Lucina added.

Morgan nodded and retrieved her warp powder. She didn't use it right away though, pausing to glance again at Ashunera. "When you wake up, even if none of us are around anymore, you should visit Ylisse anyways," she suggested. "It's a pretty nice world too, I think. You could even pay Soren a visit, while you're there."

Ashunera shot Soren a quizzical look.

"Umm… did I say something strange?" Morgan asked uneasily, her gaze alternating between the two.

"You seem to be overestimating my lifespan a little," Soren said evasively. "I suspect I won't outlive you by long, if at all." Another tremor ran through the floor. "Of course, if we don't leave this castle soon, none of us standing inside of it are likely to last another five minutes."

"It's time for you to leave," Ashunera agreed. "Go now, with my thanks, and have a safe journey home," she said, bidding them farewell.

Before any of them could answer, the goddess flickered, and her features melted into a mesmerizing sphere of swirling, gradually diminishing flames. A few seconds later, the last of the flames had disappeared.

"Well, that's that," Morgan said contentedly. "Just a few more stops to see everyone else off, before we head home ourselves."


	16. Epilogue

**~ Epilogue ~**

 _~ Melior, Crimea ~_

"Are you sure about this?" Morgan asked, looking around uncomfortably as she and Queen Gallia made their way down one of the castle's many decorated hallways.

"Positive. The sooner our countries can put this conflict behind us for good, the better," the young queen insisted.

"But Your Majesty…" Morgan began to protest.

"Just call me Carina," she insisted. "You're hardly one of my subjects, and after everything you've done, I'd be honored to call you a friend."

"Carina, Crimea is still recovering from the Redeemers' incursion," Morgan reminded. "And besides, the senators haven't actually chosen their new queen yet. Shouldn't you wait for things to be a bit more settled, first?"

Carina smiled knowingly. "You sound certain that Crimea will choose a queen," she remarked.

"Well…" Morgan said, though she trailed off helplessly.

"You're right, of course. Crimea's next sovereign has already been chosen, even if the decision has not yet been made official," Carina agreed. "How else could Lady Lunete have invited me to meet her here in Castle Melior?"

Morgan shrugged noncommittally, and followed Gallia's monarch into a familiar-looking courtroom, one she remembered spending far too many hours in already. She wasn't surprised to find Lirian seated near the doorway, pretending to be staring distantly at one of the room's decorative tapestries.

"Queen Gallia! How good to see you! I wasn't sure you would accept my invitation," Lunete said, rising from her seat at the end of the room's conference table.

"How could I refuse such a generous invitation?" Carina smiled kindly. "I will never forget when you and Duke Cerdic came to my people in our time of need. And from the word on your streets, you and I may find ourselves working closely together in the future, too."

"It's possible, but Crimea's new leadership has yet to be established. There are many candidates as worthy as myself, and the Crimean Senate is notoriously unpredictable," Lunete cautioned. Her eyes twinkled as she spoke, belying her false humility. Surprisingly, she then turned to Morgan. "I'm glad to see you again, too, Morgan. We last parted so suddenly, despite everything you've done for my people and country. Understandably sudden, of course, given how busy you and your allies have been."

"I'm glad to see you again, too," Morgan lied. "But I can't stay for long. I only came to see Queen Gallia off. My friends and I still need to see the rest of our companions here in Tellius safely to their homes. Then we'll be returning home ourselves."

"I understand," Lunete said with a genuinely warm smile. "Though… I don't mean to be impose, but could I possibly have a word with you in private? It won't take long, I promise."

Morgan hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Alright," she agreed, following the Crimean noblewoman back out into the hallway.

* * *

As soon as they were alone and out of earshot of anyone else, Lunete's cheery expression faded. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You're sorry?" Morgan asked, surprised. "Sorry for what?"

Lunete smiled sadly. "Morgan, you are one of the most intelligent and perceptive people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, even if you are a bit too willing to see the best in people. You know exactly what I did back in Gallia. You know, and you do not approve."

"Of course I don't approve," Morgan said, irritated. "What Duke Vortimer did was terrible, but for all we know, he could very well have been doing what he thought was best for Crimea. We'll never know now, since you had him _murdered_. He was defenseless, cooperating, and no threat to us at all. No threat except to you and your ambitions."

"And yet you haven't outed my secret. You could put an end to those ambitions, if you'd like," Lunete offered. "Go before the senators and speak. My rivals would pounce upon such an opportunity to tarnish my name. I would count myself lucky to escape such a scandal alive, even; Lord Catigern, for one, will push hard to see his brother's death avenged."

"Right, because I want nothing more than to spend my time bickering with your do-nothing senators," Morgan retorted harshly.

"Then you could simply tell King Goldoa," Lunete suggested. "From his reputation, he is quite the meddler, a clear opposite to his legendary father. He would not let such an injustice stand, and Crimea would weigh his words far more heavily in light of all that's happened."

"Do you _want_ me to tell someone?" Morgan asked bitterly.

"Of course not," Lunete said. "I want only to put this matter behind me."

"Then we _are_ in agreement about something," Morgan said, rolling her eyes.

"I expected as much," Lunete said knowingly. "You could have gone to King Goldoa with the truth at any time, before leaving Gallia even. Or you could have announced the truth to everyone at that very moment, or…"

"What do you want from me, Lunete?" Morgan demanded impatiently.

"Nothing," Lunete promised. "You've given me more than I deserve already. This is about what I owe you. I know you don't trust me. I know that once you return home, we will likely never meet again. And I understand that the only reason you aren't standing between me and Crimea's throne is that you feel that either of the other notable candidates, Duke Cerdic and Lord Catigern, would be an even greater burden upon Crimea's people."

"Really? Has Duke Cerdic ordered any assassinations, lately? In between cowering, simpering, and enjoying his luxuries?" Morgan quipped dryly.

Lunete did not rise to the bait. "Morgan… for the sake of your own happiness, I recommend you steer clear of politics," she said sorrowfully. "I'm not proud of what I've done, and I suspect that my reign will be full of such blemishes. You are a kind and honest person, and I can't hold your distaste towards me and my methods against you. I can only promise that I will remain true to the cause that brought us to work together, and that I will do what I genuinely believe to be best for my people."

Lunete held out her hand, and after a moment's pause, Morgan took it cautiously. "Alright then," Morgan agreed, shaking the hand of the future queen of Crimea. "Goodbye, Your Majesty."

"Farewell, Morgan, and should you ever wish to return, you will always be welcome here," Lunete promised.

* * *

 **Crimea's Rose of Many Thorns**

Few were surprised when Lunete was crowned Queen Crimea, successor to King Geoffrey VII. Her ascension was contested by many, and her noble lineage was never truly proven. However, once her brave and noble actions in forestalling the war with Gallia became known, the people of Crimea hailed her as the spiritual successor to the legendary Queen Elincia. The senate made their decision with uncharacteristic efficiency, and though her rule eventually proved tenuous, Lunete never once forgot her promise to Morgan, serving her country tirelessly for the rest of her life.

* * *

 **Gallia's Whispered Promise**

At first, Queen Gallia found little applause or fanfare when she returned to her home. She gave no explanation for her absence, and her retainers' doubts only grew. Thankfully, she did not return home alone; Cody and Celt had accompanied her during her short stay in Crimea at Prince Valent's request, saw Gallia's queen safely to her home as well. After the two enjoyed a few celebratory drinks, word of their hard-earned victories spread freely, and any reservations Gallia's people may have had about their valiant queen were quickly erased.

* * *

 _~ Phoenicis Hall, Phoenicis ~_

When Morgan and her companions arrived just outside of Phoenicis Hall, they were shocked to find that most of the damage caused by the war had seemingly vanished. Any damaged buildings had been quickly rebuilt or replaced, and many hawk and raven Laguz passed them by, going about their daily lives as if nothing had changed.

"Good work, Strife," Valent whistled.

"I think you have King Goldoa and his people to thank for that, actually," Morgan reminded, craning her head in search of the Goldoan laborers, who were nowhere to be seen.

"King Phoenicis has done well. Rebuilding a few buildings is a trivial matter. Rebuilding the trust and peace between his people was the greater challenge by far," Kurth said.

"Having their homes back goes a long way," Soren remarked, though he didn't press the point further.

"I suppose," Kurth conceded. "My people likely returned home as soon as their work was finished," Kurth explained to Morgan. "Most Goldoans still prefer to keep to themselves."

"We should return to Goldoa soon ourselves, Uncle," Amr reminded him.

"Indeed. In fact, this is as good a place to part as any," Kurth agreed. "Thank you, Morgan." He smiled at Owain. "Back on Dragonflame Isle, I promised Owain my assistance in return for his support, but it seems he has little need of my services now. My debt to him, and to all of you, has only grown. Should you ever have need of me, do not hesitate to ask."

"And you are all welcome to visit us in Goldoa anytime you wish," Amr offered.

"Or visit my manor out in Tanas," Nasir added. Then, to Morgan's surprise, Nasir turned to Nah. "Have you changed your mind?" he asked.

Nah shook her head.

"Nah?" Lucina asked curiously.

"I'm going to visit Goldoa for a while," Nah explained. "If it's still okay with you," she added, glancing at King Goldoa.

"Of course. You are welcome to stay as long as you'd like," Kurth answered.

"You're staying here in Tellius?" Morgan gaped.

"For a while, at least," Nah confirmed. "Lucina, Morgan… could you do me a favor? I know she's living all the way in Ferox, but…"

"If your mother ever needs our help, we'll be there," Lucina promised.

"Thanks," Nah agreed. She and the three dragon Laguz then departed, whisked away by the last of the warp powder Morgan had given them, but their departure was almost immediately eclipsed by the arrival of King Phoenicis himself, with Celera at his side.

"Welcome back," Strife greeted. "You've returned bearing good news, I trust."

"The best," Valent assured, wearing a broad grin. "Our enemies are history, and look who's here to visit." He gestured towards Caelia and Kyrie.

"But not for long," Caelia interrupted quickly, forestalling Celera's excited greeting. "I've been meaning to pay Gramps a visit for a while. We're heading back to Daein with Morgan and the others. It's good to see you, Strife."

"You too, Celera," Kyrie added happily. "It's been so long!"

"It has," Celera quickly agreed. "You should visit more often. Maybe spend the winter," she added slyly.

"Sure. We can do that, right?" Kyrie asked Caelia, who nodded in agreement.

"What's that, Sis?" Valent asked, his eyes drawn to a sparkling object decorating her hand. Celera held up her hand, displaying the beautiful ring resting on her finger. "Is that Beorc jewelry? I never thought you'd care for their little trinkets."

"It's a Beorc tradition that's recently gained some traction here in Phoenicis," Strife explained.

"A Beorc tradition?" Valent asked blankly.

"Really, Val?" Caelia groaned. "You've never heard of an engagement ring?"

"An engagement ring?" Valent said wonderingly. His eyes widened in shock. "Say what!?"

Celera, Caelia, and Kyrie all burst out laughing at his reaction.

"You don't mind, do you, Valent?" Strife asked. "Truth be told, Celera may have botched the tradition slightly. Even for Beorc, it is usually the man who proposes to the woman."

"Yeah, but if she waited for you, you'd both die of old age first," Kyrie grinned. "How many decades have you been waiting now, Celera?"

"It's not like that," Celera insisted. "This is political. We spoke with my father about it, too. From now on, there will never be any doubt that Valent and I supported my father when he named Strife his successor."

"I'm sure that was the deciding factor for you," Valent laughed. "And no, I don't mind, especially since it means no one will be challenging me for the title of Flight Commander now."

"Come on, Val. We all know Celera's the better fighter between you two," Caelia teased.

"Hah! Yeah right!" Valent boasted. "Which one of us was taking on those murderous constructs while the other was here playing love and politics?" he teased, though he soared off hastily before Celera's inevitable angry retort.

"Get back here, Brother!" Celera cried, taking off in pursuit.

Strife shook his head helplessly, though he could not keep from smiling. "Morgan, are the Redeemers truly finished?" he asked.

"As far as we know," Morgan said. "We captured all the surviving Redeemers we could find. They're being held in Begnion. If there are any others left in hiding, their leaders are gone, and they won't show themselves soon, if ever."

"Then you and your friends are headed home?" Strife asked.

"After a couple more stops, yes," Morgan confirmed.

"Then, on behalf of Phoenicis, thank you for everything you've done for us. I wish you and your friends a safe flight home," Strife said. "If you ever find yourself near Phoenicis, please drop in and visit."

"We will," Morgan promised.

* * *

 **The Eclipsed Crown and the Nighthawk**

In truth, the marriage between Tibarn's daughter and chosen heir changed little. Tibarn himself had once attempted something similar, after all. Nevertheless, Strife had discovered something he had desperately and unknowingly needed, and with his new lifelong partner seated on her own throne beside him, he found his work far less draining. Celera, too, was happier than ever, and with her childhood friend finally returning her affection openly, her competitive spirit softened noticeably, except where her brother was concerned. Together, Strife and Celera ushered in a new era of peace, putting to rest many of the old grudges that King Tibarn had failed to overcome.

* * *

 **The Flight Commander**

Prince Valent continued to enjoy his carefree life, serving his best friend as Flight Commander and roaming Tellius under the pretense of quelling troubles where they arose. Sometimes he wandered a bit further; few used the gateway to Ylisse after the war was ended, for the keystones remained prohibitively difficult to make, but Valent did find the time to pay his friend, Owain, a visit. The two spent a full evening entertaining themselves at Severa's expense, before the annoyed blonde forcibly sent the hawk Laguz home.

* * *

 **The Ancient Dragon King and the Young Dragon Prince**

Kurth and Amr returned to their home, and soon, the disturbance with the Redeemers became little more than a distant memory for his people. Though the Goldoans preferred to remain in isolation, none of them begrudged Kurth's decision to intercede. Still, Kurth himself felt strangely out-of-place among his own people. A few years later, he abdicated his throne to his nephew and set off to check on the affairs of the other countries of Tellius. Few were surprised when King Amr took after his great-grandfather, proving to be even more of a meddler than his predecessor.

* * *

 **The Eternal Wanderer**

Nasir returned to his nomadic life soon after, often crossing paths with his former king. His trade flourished over the years, though he had little need for wealth. In the end, he invested much of it in rebuilding a tiny village in the Windswept Forest. In time, new life made its home in Silent Grove, which became known throughout Tellius as the resting place of the Radiant Hero's last descendant.

* * *

 **A Dragon amongst Dragons**

Though Nah envied the new lives her friends from the future had found, she couldn't quite bring herself to tell her mother the truth. Set apart by her nature and beset by loneliness, her curiosity led her to Goldoa. Though her heritage and transformation were markedly different from the dragon Laguz, they welcomed her wholeheartedly, and Nah found herself a new home at their side. Even then, she found herself longing for a familial bond, and after a few years, she resolved to one day return to Ferox in search of her mother and present-day self.

* * *

 _~ Nevassa, Daein ~_

Morgan smiled faintly as she and Soren ascended the steps towards Castle Daein, remembering their first visit. They were greeted at the castle doorway by a pair of guards, one who evidently remembered that incident as well and shrank away when he saw the branded mage approaching. "Don't worry, he won't hurt anyone," Morgan assured quickly.

"Unless you're planning to bar our path once again," Soren corrected dryly.

"We're just here to see Prince Lionel before returning home," Morgan added hastily, as the cowering guard shrank back further.

"Don't worry, they're with me," Caelia assured as she and Kyrie squeezed past Morgan and Soren.

The more collected guard recognized Caelia at once, allowing everyone through without further question or hassle. The four of them made their way steadily to the throne room, where they found Daein's queen and prince waiting.

"Welcome back, Soren, Morgan," Micaiah greeted warmly, though her expression quickly became one of surprise. "Caelia, is that you?"

"Caelia? Kyrie? What are you two doing here?" Lionel asked, dumbfounded.

"Gee, _that's_ a warm welcome," Caelia teased. "Whatever happened to 'welcome home, beloved granddaughter?'"

Lionel laughed and stepped forward, wrapping his granddaughter in a tight hug. "Still the sharp tongue, I see. Welcome home, Caelia. I was hoping to visit you and Kyrie in Phoenicis, but we've been a bit busy of late."

"We know," Kyrie grinned. "We were on our way to Daein to help when we ran into Morgan and the others, and found my dear cousin tagging along with them."

"When we saw all the work you left unfinished, we thought we'd clean it up for you," Caelia explained happily. "Everything's been taken care of now."

"Truly?" Micaiah and Lionel asked together, looking to Morgan and Soren.

"Yep," Morgan confirmed brightly. "The Redeemers are gone, as are all of the dire eidolons. How's everything been here?"

"Good. We've been putting Nevassa back together, slowly, but steadily," Lionel replied.

"We're reaching out to rebuild the villages and farms that were in Extinction's path now," Micaiah added. "Progress is slow, but as with all wounds, Daein will heal in time."

"Indeed," Soren agreed.

"There's something else," Lionel said. "When we were cleaning up after the battle here in Nevassa, we found five unusual gemstones strewn along the ruins of the castle's wall."

"Gemstones?" Morgan asked blankly.

"Our sages believe them to be connected to spirit magic," Micaiah explained. "Our best guess is that they are the essences that Tantalus once asked you to find."

"The fragments of Extinction that could potentially allow someone to call him back into our world," Lionel added grimly.

Morgan winced. "Is there any way to destroy them for good?" she asked hopefully.

"Not that we are aware of," Micaiah admitted. "And even if there was, we can't be certain that Extinction's lingering spirits wouldn't find some other way to manifest themselves."

"We aren't sure if all five essences are needed for the ritual that Tantalus spoke of," Lionel said. "If they are, then it's best for the essences to be hidden separately. If only one is needed, then it would be better to keep them together. My mother and I settled on a compromise – she concealed three of them together, and I hid the remaining two."

"That sounds like a reasonable course of action," Soren agreed.

"Unless Gramps hid his two where he hides pretty much everything else, in Daein's so-called secret treasury," Caelia remarked slyly.

The others shared a laugh as Lionel groaned, hiding his embarrassment. "It's only temporary this time, until I can think of a better hiding spot," he promised.

"Well, when you do, make it a good one," Morgan suggested. "Maybe we should track down whatever's left of Maelstrom and Calamity, and hide their essences away, too." Even as she spoke, she found herself dreading the thought of another potentially fruitless scavenger hunt.

As was often the case, Soren seemed to know precisely how she felt. "There's no need for that," he assured. "Prince Lionel can send word to Gallia for us. They can handle Maelstrom. As for Calamity, we can send word to Ferox once we return to Ylisse."

"I guess you're right," Morgan agreed. She then turned back to Lionel. "Well, if anything else comes up, or if you need our help for anything, feel free to let us know," she offered. "My friends and I will be heading home soon, but we'll leave one of our mirrors with Archmage Actaeus of Begnion."

"Not with Yashiro?" Lionel asked, surprised.

Morgan winced uncomfortably. "Right… umm… you see…" she stammered, fumbling with her satchel.

"The emperor is dead," Caelia said dispassionately.

"What!?" Micaiah gasped. Lionel only froze and stared at his granddaughter in horror.

"It's not…" Morgan began helplessly, before giving up. "Here," she said instead, withdrawing a letter from her satchel and handing it to Lionel.

Lionel unfurled the parchment hurriedly, relaxing when he saw its contents. He groaned as he passed the letter to his mother, and shot his granddaughter an annoyed look. Despite the grave news, Caelia stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

"Then you're bringing their ashes back to Begnion?" Lionel asked. "His and Felicia's?"

"Yeah," Morgan said. "Princess Mirai should ascend to the throne and take his place soon, but we think it's safer to leave the mirror with Archmage Actaeus for now."

"Very well. In that case, I'm sure we will find time to talk again, even if neither of us can make time to visit," Lionel promised.

Morgan nodded, then turned back to Micaiah. "Queen Micaiah, I brought your robe back," she added, pulling a carefully wrapped parcel from her satchel next.

"Keep it," Micaiah offered.

"See? I told you," Caelia said, smirking. "She hates it."

"I don't hate it," Micaiah said quickly. "I just haven't had much need for it since it was given to me."

"Well, I won't have much need for it, either," Morgan insisted, and Micaiah relented, accepting the parcel. "Thank you for letting me borrow it for so long." She then looked to Lionel, and patted the hilt of her sword. "And thanks again for fixing my sword for me," she added.

"It's the least we could do, given everything you've done for us," Lionel said. "Farewell, Morgan."

* * *

 **The Immortal Queen and the Timeless Prince**

After yet another grueling trial, leadership's mantle weighed more heavily upon Micaiah than ever. Still, her dedication to her people proved greater. With her son working tirelessly at her side, Daein soon found peace once more. Afterwards, she again considered retiring, but the pleas of her people kept her on her throne for many centuries to come.

* * *

 **The Eternal Princess and the Sky's Talons**

Caelia and Kyrie stayed in Daein, overseeing the reconstruction by Prince Lionel's side, until they were summoned to Phoenicis to attend the Phoenician king's wedding. The two of them grew restless after a long winter holed up in Phoenicis, and resumed their aimless wandering soon after. Many brigands met their gruesome ends upon crossing paths with the deadly duo.

* * *

 _~ The Windswept Forest, Crimea ~_

"Ready, Morgan?" Severa asked, sharing none of her sister's reluctance.

"I still don't get it. Why me?" Morgan mumbled uncomfortably.

"Why not you? I can't think of anyone more fitting," Lucina said supportively.

"But I've never done anything like this before!" Morgan protested. "I'm a tactician, not a priestess. Why don't we just head back to Nevassa and find a church there? Or wait until we're home, and find a temple there instead?"

"You're closer to a god than any priest or priestess we know, Morgan. Well, a goddess, anyways," Severa reminded.

"If you really aren't comfortable with it, we can find someone else," Harmony interrupted. "I'm sure Symphony would understand."

"Morgan will do it. She won't let him down like that," Severa insisted. "Right, Morgan?"

Morgan groaned and shot her sister a dirty look, but Severa only smiled shamelessly. "Fine," she finally relented. "But this makes us even for me leading you and Lucina all the way out here to Tellius, alright?"

"Fair enough," Lucina and Severa agreed.

With that, the four of them set off, marching down the forest path until they came to a small clearing around a crystal clear pond, where Symphony and Iris were waiting for them. Owain stood nearby in the shadows, his sword in hand and a determined expression on his face.

"Why do you look so serious?" Severa asked him.

"Mighty forest creatures lurk about us, hidden in the forest's dense foliage," Owain whispered, his eyes darting back and forth nervously.

"A bear came by to drink from the pond, walking right by Owain," Iris explained brightly. She looked in Severa's general direction as she spoke, though their eyes didn't quite meet.

"He's been a little bit on edge ever since," Symphony smirked.

"A warrior's vigilance knows no bounds!" Owain said, as Severa dissolved into a laughing fit.

"Don't tell me you're scared of a bear," Lucina commented, similarly amused. "If Father were here, we would be having roast bear for dinner."

"Roast bear? That sounds disgusting," Symphony commented.

"Bear doesn't taste _that_ bad," Morgan said.

"Yes, it does," Severa insisted. "It tastes horrible and smells even worse."

"Dad likes it," Morgan reminded.

"Most of the time, Dad forgets to eat until he's half-starved. Then he's too hungry to care what he's eating," Severa shot back. "Just like you."

"That's not… okay, that's kind of true," Morgan conceded sheepishly. "Anyways, Symphony, Iris, are you two ready?"

The two of them nodded and turned to face another, and Morgan opened the book that Lucina had lent her, flipping through it until she reached her bookmark. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she skimmed through the somewhat sappy romance story, searching for the first relevant line.

"My dear friends, we are gathered here in this temple…" she began, before pausing and surveying their surroundings. "Err… forest," she corrected herself, pausing again when she saw her sister struggling to keep a straight face.

"Go on, Morgan," Lucina said encouragingly.

Morgan took a deep breath before beginning anew, this time without interruption. "My dear friends, we are gathered here in this forest today to witness the joining…"

* * *

"We're here," Symphony announced softly, gently guiding Iris through the gates of the small graveyard beside Silent Grove's church. The newlywed couple slowly walked past the newest row of graves, and Symphony quietly read each name aloud, as if he was greeting each of their friends in person. He stopped when he came to last two graves, feeling as if his throne had swelled up, keeping him from speaking aloud.

Iris seemed to understand at once. "Hello, Lily, Noelle," she greeted warmly. "It hasn't been that long since we were last here, has it? It feels like it's been forever, though."

"It has," Symphony agreed. "So much has happened since then. You two would probably never believe the trouble we got ourselves into."

"We made it out okay, though," Iris said.

Symphony frowned. "Loosely speaking, I suppose," he said. "We're both still alive. The crazed woman who led the attack on Silent Grove isn't. Even so, we visited a healer in Crimea, and another in Daein. Neither of them could do anything for Iris. We're still hoping maybe someone from Lucina and Severa's home can help us, but…"

"But at this point, we think I'll just have to learn to live without being able to see," Iris finished. "It's not as bad as it sounds, really. I'm already beginning to get used to it, and I'll have Symphony helping me, too."

"She's as optimistic as ever, isn't she?" Symphony chuckled.

"I'm supposed to be, aren't I?" Iris said. "Lily once told me that a girl's wedding day was supposed to be the brightest day of her life."

"Did she?" Symphony said, glancing down at their friend's headstone. "Sorry, Lil, but I hope you turn out to be wrong about that. We still have many years ahead of us to look forward to, after all." His jubilant expression faded slightly. "I know. We both do. Back on the ship, I thought long and hard before telling her the truth about the ring, and even though I've promised to stay with her as long as I live, I can't help but wonder if that will really be enough."

"It might never be enough," Iris said. "I've already spent much of my life alone, and it scares me to think that one day, I might have to live that way again."

Symphony gently folded his hand around hers. "You won't be alone," he promised. "We'll be leaving soon to find a new home and carve out a new life for ourselves, but even if we never return to Tellius, we'll never forget the friends we had here, right? The memories we shared will be enough to keep them with us."

"Now who's the optimistic one?" Iris giggled.

"Lily, Noelle, you two were right all along, after all," Symphony went on. "Thank you." He turned and gazed at the other markers. "Thank you, everyone. You took us in when we were lost and needed a home. You were there when we needed you, and gave us everything we could have asked for. I'm sorry that I wasn't there when you needed me."

"Thank you," Iris agreed. "Mom… Dad… everyone. Thank you, and… goodbye."

"Goodbye. We'll meet again one day, I hope," Symphony said.

Their parting words went unanswered, and finally, the two of them turned to leave. Even though their hearts remained heavy, there was a new spring in their step as they left the graveyard, determined to follow the promise of a better future.

* * *

 _~ Sienne, Begnion ~_

When Morgan and the rest of her companions arrived at the outskirts of Sienne, they found a small crowd gathered around the gateway. Some of those present were simply curious commoners, but most appeared to be senators or members of the emperor's court.

Apprehensive stares met them from every direction as soon as they appeared, and quickly became looks of sorrow and disappointment when they saw that the rumors were apparently true.

Robin and Cordelia were waiting there, too, along with their two younger daughters. Robin paid the dismayed crowd little attention as he approached Severa and Morgan. "You two sure took your time in getting here," he remarked.

"We had to make a few stops along the way," Morgan said, as her father pulled her and her sister into a tight hug. "We wanted to say goodbye to everyone. It might be a while until we see any of them again."

"Don't worry. I kept an eye on her so she wouldn't wander off again," Severa teased.

"Thanks, Severa," Robin smiled. "Is everyone ready to go, then?" He eyed Owain specifically, who had slunk away from the others, and was fidgeting nervously. "Owain?"

"Umm… yeah. Sure. Yes, let's go home," he stammered.

"Don't worry," Cordelia said reassuringly. "Your father might be stern, but he missed you very much, too."

"And I'm sure he'll be very proud when he learns about everything you've done," Lucina added.

"Even if you went about it in a kind of stupid way," Severa said with a mischievous grin.

"Right," Owain agreed uncomfortably, though he then went on to mumble something that sounded vaguely like "Mom."

"Yeah, Lissa will probably flay you alive. Sorry. I don't think any of us can help you with that," Severa said, her tone laced with mock regret.

"Severa!" Lucina protested, trying her best not to laugh as Owain blanched visibly and took several steps away from the gateway. "Don't worry, Owain. I'm sure Aunt Lissa will be glad to see you home safely, too."

"Are we all ready, then?" Robin asked again. As he spoke, he moved to his nearby workbench and retrieved a parcel wrapped in fine cloth, unraveling it to reveal the stone tablet within.

"Just one moment, Dad," Morgan interrupted. She went to the single cart of belongings they had kept with them, and after some searching, emerged with two ornately decorated urns, the emperor's blessed tome, and a scroll of parchment. She then searched the crowd around them, and moved to stand before Archmage Actaeus, reverently setting down the two urns in front of him.

"Are these…?" Actaeus began to ask.

Morgan nodded numbly. "The larger, more elegant one is Emperor Yashiro's. The smaller one is the general's," she explained stiffly. "I'm sorry. We weren't familiar with Begnion's traditions, and we thought this would be the easiest way to bring them home. We also found some letters that the emperor wrote before our last battle. This one is for you." She handed over the parchment and tome, and the old man tucked both into his robes without a second glance.

"Thank you, Morgan," Actaeus said gravely.

"In that letter, he asked that you look after Empress Mirai," Morgan went on, as she reached into one of her robe's deep pockets, retrieving her magical mirror, too. "I meant to leave this with the emperor when we left, but now, I think it's best if I leave it with you instead. You can give it to the empress when she's ready," Morgan explained, handing the mirror over.

"I understand. Thank you for bringing our emperor and general back to us, Morgan. I know you are in a hurry to return to your home, and that our traditional week-long funeral rites may be a week too long for you, but if you'd like to return to Sienne to see him off, you will be most welcome," Actaeus promised.

"Thank you," Morgan said, though she already knew she would not be attending. "For the invitation, and for your help during our war, too," she added.

"I am but a simple servant, fulfilling my duty to the throne of Begnion," Actaeus bowed modestly. "Farewell, young Morgan."

* * *

Half an hour later, Actaeus returned to his private quarters, where his lone guest was waiting.

"Have they returned triumphant?" Relic asked, his voice still weak from exertion.

"They have. It's finished, Tormod," Actaeus said. "They sailed to Wyverns' Crag and destroyed Charon, or whatever Charon had apparently become."

"Then I am content," Relic said, relieved.

"I'm glad to hear that. Your dreams and aspirations never truly came to fruition, after all," Actaeus remarked. "I was afraid you'd push yourself even further, in spite of the disasters that were only narrowly averted."

"The lesson was humility," Relic answered somberly. "I learned my place."

"Rather, you learned what _wasn't_ your place," Actaeus said wryly. "Does Tellius even truly need heroes in this day and age? History tells us that we've come a long way already. Even if we remain far from perfection, we're headed in the right direction, at least. Your efforts to highlight humanity's weaknesses proved arduous, and the ensuing conflicts were quickly resolved."

Relic nodded. "Pride was my failing."

"The failing of many before you, and the failing of many to come," Actaeus agreed. "But you learned better, and did so in time to right some of the wrongs you set in motion. So, what now, my dear cousin? Where shall your hopes carry you to next?"

"My road is ended," Relic replied gravely.

"Hardly," Actaeus disagreed. "I would not have expended the effort of whisking you away and saving you if I thought you had nothing left to offer the world," he explained.

Relic stared at Actaeus doubtfully.

"Your children may think you gone for good, but your wife has never once doubted that you'd return to her. Are you truly willing to disappoint her?" Actaeus said. "Will you forego the chance to meet your grandchildren? I hear one of them bears a most curious brand."

Relic looked away, choosing to stare blankly at the wall.

"I know you feel like you've failed them, since you could not create for them the better world that you had envisioned," Actaeus continued. "But I think you understand, too, that the world is already far brighter than you had imagined. Go to them, Cousin. Forget about trying to change the world, and about trying to live up to the long-dead name of a long-forgotten man, however great he was. You were given precious few years, and have wasted too many of them already. Do not let the rest slip away from you, too."

Having spoken his piece, Actaeus turned and left, expecting and hoping that when he returned, his cousin would be nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 **The Youthful Blossom and the Elderly Caretaker**

Following the death of Emperor Yashiro, Princess Mirai of Begnion ascended to her throne, despite her young age. The political struggle that ensued was subtly brutal, as many of Begnion's nobles struggled to influence their new and apparently malleable monarch. It was then that Archmage Actaeus and many other members of the former emperor's court stepped forth, mentoring their child empress until, under their tutelage, she became a capable ruler in her own right. Meanwhile, as Actaeus grew older and older still, rumors regarding his heritage circled him persistently until he at last passed away after a long life of nearly two centuries.

* * *

 **The Broken Relic**

At first, Tormod was reluctant to accept his cousin's advice. He departed Sienne much as he arrived, an enigma to the world he had so nearly brought to ruin. In the following months, he considered reinstating the spirit pact he had unraveled, but finally deemed such an act to be meaningless. Eventually, he did find his way home to a family that no longer knew him, but accepted him nonetheless. Neither his wife nor his descendants ever learned of the dangerous trials he had undertaken, and his name, both his true name and his assumed alias, were lost to the annals of Tellius's history.

* * *

 _~ Ylisstol, Ylisse ~_

Compared to the gateway on the outskirts of Sienne, the gateway in the courtyard of Castle Ylisse was nearly deserted. Chrom had done his best to avoid drawing attention, and only he, his family, and Frederick were present to greet their returning friends.

"Welcome home, everyone," Chrom said, though his voice was entirely drowned out by the sudden chorus of cheers. Standing beside him, Sumia did her best to restrain her two youngest daughters, though it proved to be an exercise in futility when the older Cynthia ran past her to greet Lucina. Both of the younger blue-haired girls looked at their mother in a wounded and envious manner, before she relented, allowing the two of them to gleefully charge towards their oldest sister, too.

"So much for avoiding a crowd," Robin mused aloud as he walked towards Chrom.

Somehow, Chrom was able to hear him even over the rampant noise. "Did you really think I could convince Lissa or Sumia to wait inside?" he laughed. He and Robin both turned to watch as Owain nervously met his mother and father's gaze.

Frederick appeared as stoic as ever, offering his wayward son only the faintest smile. In contrast, Lissa's warm and welcoming smile was almost too sweet for comfort. "Owain!" she sang out happily.

Owain apprehensively looked over his shoulder towards the gateway, which promptly went dormant before his eyes. He looked pleadingly at Lucina and Severa, but his cousin only nodded encouragingly, and Severa looked away, struggling to hide her laughter.

"Go on, Owain," Sumia prompted with a wide smile.

"Your mother and I have been very worried about you," Frederick added.

Owain remained frozen, and finally, Lissa ran up to him and seized his arm, smiling the entire time. "Come along, Owain," she demanded firmly. "Your little brother wants to see you, and we have so much to talk about."

With no other choice before him, Owain allowed his mother to lead him towards the castle, all the while wearing the look of a condemned man marching to the gallows.

Only Morgan seemed to entirely oblivious to spectacle. While Owain and his parents moved towards the castle, she approached the cart carrying their belongings. "It's safe to come out now, you two. The gateway's closed."

With a weary groan, Yashiro pushed away the tarp covering him and Felicia. He climbed out of cart stiffly, then reached back into the cart to help Felicia out as well. "Thank you, Morgan," he said gratefully.

"Did you deliver our letter to Lionel, too?" Felicia asked in the midst of stretching her cramped limbs.

"Yeah, and I gave Prince Valent your letter for King Phoenicis, too," Morgan confirmed.

Distracted as she was, Morgan missed the exalt approaching her. "Hey there," Chrom greeted. "More visitors from the other side, huh?"

"Umm… yeah," Morgan said, silently thankful that Chrom had apparently forgotten Yashiro's face.

"I hope you don't mind, Exalt Chrom," Yashiro said politely.

"My husband and I were simply enthralled by the stories we've heard," Felicia added.

"I see," Chrom said thoughtfully. Then he shook his head, exasperated. "I'm tempted to ask why two of your friends decided on hiding in the cart instead of simply walking through the gateway, Morgan, but at the same time, I'm not sure I want to know."

"You really don't," Cordelia said quickly, for Sumia's sake. In truth, she knew Chrom would find the story very amusing. More problematically, Ylisse's restless exalt would likely find Yashiro's exit from Begnion to be dangerously inspiring, too.

"Yashiro, Felicia, where are you two headed?" Lucina interrupted, sharing Cordelia's fears and hoping to steer the conversation in a less ominous direction. "If you haven't decided yet, you're both welcome to join the Shepherds. We tend to wander around Ylisse quite a bit."

"Thanks, but Shiro and I were just planning to see where the road takes us," Felicia declined.

"Indeed," Yashiro agreed wistfully. "I find myself longing for a complete lack of direction."

"Alright. Well, if you change your mind, you will always be welcome here," Lucina said.

"I'm sure we'll find time to visit," Felicia promised, moving to retrieve the rest of her meager belongings from the cart.

"Thanks again, Morgan," Yashiro said. "For just about everything, really. If there's ever anything we can do for you, just let us know." He, too, collected his traveling bag, and the two of them set off, pausing only for one last, wistful glance back towards their friends and companions.

Once the former emperor and general were gone, Morgan turned to Symphony and Iris. "What about you two? Are you still heading south with Soren?" she asked.

Symphony nodded, and smiled apologetically at his sister. "Iris and I would like a quieter life," he admitted. "You're staying with Lucina and the others, Harmony?"

"Yeah," Harmony said, though she suddenly seemed doubtful. "Will you and Iris be okay?"

"We will," Iris promised. "You'll come and visit us, won't you?"

"I…" Harmony began, though she hesitated, reconsidering her decision to stay in Ylisstol.

"There's no sense in agonizing over it," Soren interrupted sharply, rolling his eyes. "Azure Pyre is only about two weeks away, even without warp powder."

"It really isn't that far," Severa agreed.

"I guess you're right," Harmony conceded, though she still sounded unsure. "See you two soon, then."

"See you soon," Symphony said, waving farewell. He and Iris pulled away from the others and drew their last portions of warp powder.

Soren began to follow suit, but Morgan stopped him.

"Wait," Morgan interrupted.

Soren turned and stared at her curiously. "What is it, Morgan?"

Morgan took a deep breath, then stepped closer to him and lowered her voice so that only he could hear her. "I've been meaning to ask you something. When we were in Gallia, you told me that Ashunera came to you during our battle in Nevassa, right? Why?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," Soren lied.

Morgan stared at him inquisitively for a few seconds, then smiled. "You said you saw a miracle. You weren't talking about our victory over Extinction, were you?" she asked knowingly.

"What else could I have been talking about?" Soren asked, feigning confusion.

"Oh, I don't know," Morgan shrugged, feigning disinterest. "In hindsight, it just doesn't seem all that miraculous, I guess. At least, not when compared to how I somehow survived taking a bolt through the heart."

"A bolt through the heart? You really think that idiot hawk Laguz could have managed such an accurate shot? You give him far too much credit," Soren said, shaking his head. "I should be going. Symphony and Iris are waiting for me, and you still need to speak with the exalt about sending someone to Ferox to collect Calamity's essence."

"Oh, right!" Morgan said. She turned in search of Chrom, but to her surprise, there was a slender, dark-haired man clad in simple black clothing standing beside the exalt. "You!" Morgan gasped aloud.

The others were similarly surprised by their unexpected and previously unnoticed visitor. "Whoa! Where did you come from?" Chrom exclaimed, stumbling away.

"I've been here the whole time," the dark-haired man said.

"Your name is Volke, right?" Morgan remembered. "I thought you said we would never have to see you again."

"Volke is what you decided to call me," the man said with a shrug. "And I said you would never have to see me again if that was your preference, but it didn't seem like you or your friends cared either way."

"Why are you here, then? Did you decide to return to Tellius, after all?" Robin asked.

"Hardly," Volke said. "I just happened to come across a bit of information that I thought one of you would find intriguing. Incidentally, don't waste your time sending someone to collect Calamity's essence."

There was a long and pregnant pause as everyone stared at Volke in confusion.

"What do you mean? What do you know about Calamity?" Morgan demanded urgently.

Volke smiled. "Two hundred thousand."

Morgan swallowed nervously and looked to her father. He, in turn, exchanged nervous looks with Chrom.

But before either Chrom or Robin could respond to the outrageous offer, Soren spoke up. "Don't, Morgan."

"Are you sure?" Morgan asked worriedly. "If he knows something about Calamity, it could be something extremely important."

"It isn't," Soren declared with confidence.

"And how are you so certain of that?" Volke added, a sharp glint in his eyes.

"Because I know _you_. You may be an assassin who makes a living through spying, stealing, and killing, but you've always been selective with your potential employers," Soren explained. "Greil, Ike, Elincia… even that silver-tongued Count of Fayre. As materialistic as you pretend to be, you're a righteous person at heart. You wouldn't jeopardize the world you live in with something as pointless as an unreasonable fee."

"An interesting theory," Volke mused. "Though you are mistaken. I've taken contracts from some rather unsavory individuals in the past."

"How many of them then went on to die at the end of your blade?" Soren countered. "Was that not how Izuka met his end?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea who you are talking about," Volke said.

"Suit yourself," Soren said. "I'll stand by my guess: either Calamity's essence is already in safe hands, or the dire eidolon deceived the Feroxi soldiers and fled with no intention of returning. He's not a threat, but if the exalt and his advisors choose to disregard my advice and pay you anyways, I won't stop them." He turned and moved to stand beside Symphony and Iris, preparing his own warp powder.

"Soren!" Morgan called after him.

Soren looked back patiently, but said nothing.

"Thank you, Soren. For everything," Morgan said. "And… umm… I'll come and visit you all in Azure Pyre, too. Alright?"

"I'd like that," Soren replied. "Goodbye, Morgan. And… thank you."

There was a flash of light as the three of them used the last of their warp powder. Then the rifts faded. For a time, Morgan only stared at the empty patch of grass, wondering if perhaps she should have gone along.

"Do we have a deal or not?" Volke asked, interrupting her brief reverie.

"Huh? Oh. No thanks," Morgan said.

"Are you sure?" Chrom asked nervously.

"Positive," Morgan confirmed.

"Have it your way, then," Volke said nonchalantly. "If you happen to change your mind, stop at any of the bars around here and tell the barkeep you've need of a fireman. I'll find you."

"I will," Morgan promised, though the mysterious man had already turned to leave.

* * *

 **The Endless Chorus of the Night and the Legacy of the Lost Tribe**

Just as they had hoped, Symphony and Iris immediately felt at home in the sleepy village of Azure Pyre. They were welcomed wholeheartedly, even when they learned of Iris's unusual heritage, for the stories of the Radiant Hero were well-known in those parts. The hopeful young couple built a small cabin at the edge of the village, beside an unused plot of land, where they soon returned to the comfortable rhythm they had known in Silent Grove. Symphony kept his deadly sickles at hand, wielding them in defense of the village, though he found that he seldom needed them. He and Iris both thought of their lost friends often, and over the years, the pain continued to gradually diminish. They started a family of their own not long after settling in Azure Pyre, and never found the need to return to Tellius or Silent Grove.

* * *

 **The Harmonic Blade**

Harmony was reluctant to join the Shepherds at first, fearing that the thrill of combat would send her thoughts back to the distant, bloody memories she had tried to leave behind. At the same time, she felt indebted to her new friends, and pushed herself into accompanying Lucina and the Shepherds anyways. Their minor, righteous victorious brought her some sense of atonement, and she soon found serenity in her new life.

* * *

 **The Staunch Guardian and her Soaring Protector**

Life soon returned to normal for Lucina, who continued to lead the Shepherds as they wandered Tellius, quelling trouble wherever it arose. Cynthia, who still resented her minor role in their last escapade, assigned herself and her Pegasus knights to accompany and aid the Shepherds in all of their endeavors. The two sisters were rarely apart in the years to come, and few took to banditry in the years that followed, fearing a deadly reprisal from Ylisse's legendary wardens.

* * *

 **The Weary Hero and the Unsated Wanderer**

Though he would continue to insist otherwise, Owain's journey to Tellius had left him quite exhausted, and he was content to quietly rejoin the ranks of the Shepherds. Similarly, Severa rejoined the Pegasus knights, and the two often found themselves traveling Ylisse's roads together at Lucina's side. Neither of the two were willing to admit their affections towards the other, even if their true feelings were already apparent to all of their friends.

They remained their usual bickering selves until one day, Severa abruptly left. Some of her friends, particularly Lucina, thought she had finally grown bored of their peaceful and unchanging life in Ylisse, but none of them were quite certain. Owain set off in pursuit soon after, and though he claimed to be simply repaying a debt he owed, few believed him.

* * *

 **The Lost Crown and the Lion's Daughter**

The former emperor of Begnion who had twice abandoned his throne was never seen again in the lands of Tellius. He and his beloved wife were adamant that their part in Tellius's history had ended. A few of their close friends made a point of visiting them in Ylisse, but the rest of their old world continued to believe that Begnion's emperor and general had perished at Wyverns' Crag.

Yashiro and Felicia kept a low profile as they wandered Ylisse, though they often spent nights of merriment with their former companions among the Shepherds when their paths crossed. They enjoyed their nomadic life, and seldom settled in any place for long until Felicia found herself with child. Even then, they remained only for a few short decades, raising their children lovingly to adulthood before setting off on their own once more in search of unending adventure.

* * *

 **The Silent Master of the Winds and the Goddess's Gift**

The villagers of Azure Pyre remembered Soren well, although they still knew him as Senerio, the unsociable youth who had been close friends with the Radiant Hero's descendant. Though he continued to keep to himself, he had attained some degree of closure during his latest journey, and many of the villagers found him more approachable. When asked of Priam's fate, he spoke willingly and honestly of the boy's honor, courage, and noble death.

Though outwardly, Soren seemed content, he secretly found it difficult to return to his old life. For the first time in decades, the loneliness of his existence grated at him, and he could no longer quietly bide his time as the world passed him by. To his immeasurable relief, Morgan kept her promise, visiting Azure Pyre often alongside her friends from Ylisstol.

Morgan greatly enjoyed her visits as well, and took to visiting the distant village more frequently and on her own, despite Severa's protests. She spent countless evenings studying with her new friend and mentor, enjoying her newly peaceful life with minimal disruptions, until Severa's abrupt departure.

When Morgan learned of her sister leaving, she was tempted to follow as Owain had done, but found herself reluctant to leave her current life behind again. To her surprise, Soren recognized her predicament, and offered to accompany her in her search. The two of them took to the road together once more and spent several years wandering throughout Ylisse. Their ensuing adventures proved enjoyable but ultimately uneventful, and while Morgan held fast to her belief that Severa would one day return, she and Soren eventually returned to Azure Pyre.

Never again did Morgan question her new lifelong friend and partner about the staff they had once borrowed from Micaiah, for she knew the truth already. At first, it was guilt that kept her silent, but after several years, she came to understand that Soren harbored no regrets for what he had done. Like Morgan, he was content to enjoy the rest of their limited mortal years to the fullest.


End file.
